BY  RIGHT  OF 


ARTHUR   HORNBLOW 


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POPULAR  BOOKS  BY 
ARTHUR  HORNBLOW 

John   Marsh's   Millions  Fifth  Large  Edition 

The  struggle  of  a  young  girl,  heiress  to  millions,  to  protect 
her  rights. 

"  Has  many  thrilling  dramatic  situations." 

— St.  Louis  Post-Dispatch. 

The  Third  Degree  70th  Thousand 

A  brilliant  novelization  of  Charles  Klein's  great  play. 

"A  strongly-painted  picture  of  certain  conditions  in  the 
administration  of  law  and  justice." 

— Philadelphia  Record. 

By   Right   of   Conquest  lOOth  Thousand 

A  thrilling  story  of  shipwreck,  upon  a  deserted  island,  of  a 
millionaire's  daughter  and  a  common  stoker. 

"A  sensational  situation  handled  with  delicacy  and  vigor." 

— Boston  Transcript. 

The  End  of  the  Game  75th  Thousand 

A  love  story  of  deep  human  interest,  dealing  with  the  perils 
of  great  wealth. 

"A  thoroughly  wholesome  book,  with  action  in  the  drama 
and  real  human  interest."  — Literary  Digest 

Hie  Profligate  60th  Thousand 

A  modern  rake's    progress    and    thrilling    story  of    love, 
mystery  and  adventure. 

"  The  moral  tone  of  the  story  is  excellent." 

— Baltimore  Sun. 

Fhe  Lion  and  the  Mouse         isoth  Thousand 

A   brilliant   novelization  of   Charles   Klein's   tremendously 
popular  play. 

"  Mr.  Hornblow,  in  the  novel,  has  given  something  quite 
as  interesting,  quite  as  fascinating,  as  Mr.  Klein  has  in 
his  play."  —Boston  Transcript. 


f 


WHAT  BIGHT  HAD  HK  TO  ACCOST  HER  ? 

Frontispiece.    Chap.  XVII.    Page  282. 


BY  RIGHT  OF 
CONQUEST 

H  Hovel 

BY 

ARTHUR  HORNBLOW 

Author  of  "The  Profligate,"  "The  End  of  the  Game," 
"The  Lion  and  the  Mouse"  (from  the  play),  etc. 


Illustrations  by 
ARCHIE    GUNN   and   CHARLES   GRUNWALD 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1909, 

BT 
G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY. 

By  Right  of  Conquest. 


CONTENTS. 

Chapter.  Page. 

I 7 

II .... 31 

HI.. 57 

IV 66 

V 84 

VI ... 95 

VII 113 

VIII ...  125 

IX 142 

X , - 161 

XL. i , 184; 

XII 199 

XIII - 213 

XIV 233 

XV ,. ...,.., ...  247 

XVI « 256 

XVII 276 

XVIII.  , ,. . ,..,..,.  284 

XIX 298 

XX .... 305 

XXI 314 

_. . . .,. ... ., ...  .,...(._.J.W. . . ,.,..!...„ .  334 


2136293 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Page 

What  right  had  he  to  accost  her? Frontispiece    282 

It  was  all  they  could  do  to  drag  him  on  board  .  54 
Never  in  his  life  had  he  beheld  a  woman  so  fair  .  147 
"No — you're  not  I  I'm  going  with  you"  OT  t.B  T.  351 


By  Right  of  Conquest 

CHAPTER  I 

IN  a  dark,  dirty,  foul-smelling  room  back  of  a 
small  ship-chandler's  store  on  West  Street,  four 
sailormen  were  seated  at  a  table,  drinking,  quar- 
reling, cursing.  The  bottle  from  which  they  had 
imbibed  too  freely  contained  a  villainous  compound 
that  ensured  their  host  a  handsome  profit,  set  their 
brains  afire,  and  degraded  them  to  the  level  of  the 
beast.  Not  that  their  condition  in  life  was  much 
better  than  that  of  the  dumb  brute.  Animals  often 
enjoy  more  creature  comforts,  are  better  housed  and 
more  kindly  treated. 

They  were  not  really  sailors,  for  in  their  long  ex- 
perience on  the  high  seas  they  had  never  reefed  a 
sail  or  hauled  on  a  rope.  Only  too  often  they  never 
got  so  much  as  a  glimpse  of  God's  blue  sky  or  the 
immense  stretches  of  tumbling,  foaming  ocean. 
They  were  the  galley-slaves  of  modern  seagoing — 
the  stokers,  the  men  with  oily  skin  and  heat-bleared 

7 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

eyes,  who  toil  naked  in  the  bowels  of  the  giant 
steamship,  each  crew  doing  its  "watch"  of  four 
hours  in  a  dark  pit  at  the  bottom  of  the  huge  ves- 
sel, deprived  of  air  and  sunlight,  firemen  and  trim- 
mers working  feverishly  in  a  maddening  tempera- 
ture of  140  degrees  and  over,  thrusting  and  pulling 
with  rod  and  rake  in  the  insatiable  maw  of  the  ra^ 
ging  furnace.  The  hot  blasts  scorch  the  men's  faces 
and  blister  their  skins,  yet  they  are  compelled  to 
keep  up  the  furious  pace.  They  must  never  slack- 
en, for  on  their  muscles  and  their  nerves  depend  the 
speed  of  the  ship  and  the  prestige  of  the  line.  So 
they  shovel  faster  and  faster,  tirelessly,  endlessly, 
the  flying  coal-dust  settling  on  their  sweating  faces 
and  bare  bodies  until  they  lose  semblance  to  any- 
thing human  and  recall  those  lurid  pictures  of  the 
Inferno  in  which  Satan's  imps,  armed  with  pitch- 
forks, thrust  back  shrieking  sinners,  condemned  to 
everlasting  torment,  who  are  struggling  to  escape 
from  the  bottomless  pit.  That  the  luxurious  liner 
may  break  a  record  and  retain  the  patronage  of  the 
millionaire  passengers  reclining  indolently  on  the 
promenade-decks  above,  the  unknown,  unseen  slaves 

8 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

in  the  hellish  regions  below  must  shovel,  shovel, 
shovel,  always  faster,  faster  until  at  last  nature  gives 
way.  Exhausted  by  fatigue,  overcome  by  the  killing 
heat,  the  man  falls  headlong.  They  pick  him  up  and 
carry  him  on  deck,  where  the  pure  air  may  or  may 
not  revive  him.  Perhaps  he  is  already  dead.  His 
filthy,  almost  unearthly  appearance  chills  the  sym- 
pathies of  the  fastidious  cabin  passengers.  Who  is 
he?  What's  happened?  "Only  a  stoker!"  yawns 
some  one,  and  all  go  unconcernedly  down  to  dinner. 

The  time  passed  and  the  men  still  loafed  in  the 
chandler's  shop,  drinking  and  arguing.  The  day 
was  already  advanced,  the  active,  busy  world  with- 
out summoned  them  urgently  to  duty,  at  noon  their 
ship  would  cast  off  her  moorings  and  steam  majes- 
tically out  to  sea,  and  yet  the  four  firemen  sat  idly 
in  the  evil-smelling  den,  noisy  in  drunken  argument 
— all  but  one  man,  a  big,  athletic-looking  fellow, 
who  drank  in  sullen  silence.  Occasionally  one  of 
them  would  stop  and  glance  furtively  in  the  direc- 
tion gf  the  street,  as  if  apprehensive  that  an  unwel- 
come visitor  might  suddenly  put  in  an  appearance.  • 

9 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

But  no  one  disturbed  them,  not  even  Schmalr,  the 
proprietor  of  the  place,  a  fat,  tousled-headed  Ger- 
man, who  found  his  customers  too  profitable  to 
quarrel  with.  As  fast  as  bottles  were  emptied,  he 
replaced  them,  and  that  he  sold  liquor  without  going 
through  the  formalities  of  procuring  a  license  was 
evident  from  his  catlike  movements,  the  absence  of 
any  outward  signs  of  the  clandestine  traffic,  and  his 
extreme  care  to  keep  the  inner  room  and  its  occu- 
pants well  secluded  from  observation. 

The  outer  shop  was  typical  of  the  many  nautical 
stores  of  its  kind  scattered  along  New  York's  water- 
front. It  contained  everything  a  sailor  needs,  from 
yellow  oilskins,  thick  woolen  socks,  and  blue  jerseys 
to  fried  herrings,  pickles,  and  mustard  plasters.  The 
atmosphere  was  heavy  with  an  agglomeration  of  dif- 
ferent and  conflicting  smells — fish,  tar,  paint,  gar- 
bage, and  stale  tobacco.  From  time  to  time  custom- 
ers dropped  in,  and  Schmalz,  shrewd  and  urbane, 
exercised  his  talents  inducing  them  to  buy,  the  while 
keeping  one  cautious  eye  on  his  open  money-drawer, 
the  other  on  his  boisterous  patrons  in  the  inner 
room. 

10 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

From  the  street  came  refreshing  whiffs  of  salty  air 
and  the  roar  of  heavy  traffic  rolling  along  the  busy 
thoroughfare.  Trucks  groaning  and  creaking  un- 
der mountains  of  merchandise,  cabs  filled  with  trav- 
elers and  piled  high  with  baggage,  slowly  threading 
their  way  in  and  out  to  trains  and  steamers,  rickety 
horse-cars,  crowded  to  the  guard-rails,  hucksters' 
push-carts,  piled  high  with  decaying  fruit,  bewil- 
dered immigrants,  fresh  from  the  Old  World,  nim- 
ble commuters  from  the  suburbs  hurrying  to  and 
from  the  ferries — all  these,  men,  horses,  and  vehicles 
were  tangled  up  in  seeming  hopeless  confusion. 
Along  the  water's  edge,  where  the  four-mile  line  of 
docks  sheltered  the  world's  shipping,  arose  a  forest 
of  ship-masts,  with  here  and  there  gigantic  funnels 
of  ocean  liners,  belching  smoke  as  they  made  ready 
for  their  journey  to  the  sea.  From  mid-river  came 
the  shrill  tooting  of  mosquito-like  tugs,  and  the 
churning  sound  of  ferry-boats  as  they  glided  from 
shore  to  shore. 

"Naw,  Jack,  my  boy,  it's  too  blarsted  risky,"  said 
decisively  one  of  the  four,  a  short,  stocky  man,  with 
a  pock-marked  face  and  cockney  accent.  "  'Tain't 

ii 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

no  good  arguin'  an'  chewin'  the  rag  any  longer,  ye 
know.  I  won't  do  it,  an'  that's  all  there's  to  it." 

"Shorty's  dead  right,"  spoke  up  another  of  the 
men,  as  he  drained  his  glass.  "We'd  be  caught,  sure 
as  yer  name's  Jack  Armitage." 

"Bah !"  grunted  the  third  man.  "Wot's  the  good 
pf  kickin'?  If  it  isn't  one  thing,  it's  another — so 
wot's  the  use?" 

The  foregoing  remarks  were  directed  principally 
at  the  big,  straight-limbed  fellow  who  sat  at  the  table 
in  sullen  silence,  his  face  buried  in  his  folded  arms. 
He  vouchsafed  no  answer  to  his  comrades'  argu- 
ments. Lifting  his  head,  he  turned  his  bloodshot 
eyes  on  them,  and,  as  if  to  show  his  utter  contempt 
for  their  opinion,  he  shrugged  his  massive  shoulders 
and,  picking  up  the  whiskey-bottle,  refilled  his  glass. 

Apparently  a  few  years  younger  than  his  asso- 
ciates, he  was  a  clean-cut,  good-looking  fellow  with 
a  smooth  face,  and  regular  features,  and  there  was 
something  in  his  manner,  an  air  of  authority  in  the 
toss  of  his  head,  which  suggested  that  he  might  be 
fashioned  of  a  different  clay,  yet  his  grimy  skin  and 
oil-stained,  coal-blackened  clothes  indicated  that  his 

12 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

condition  of  life  was  the  same.  His  eyes  were  red 
from  drinking  and  there  were  grim  lines  about  his 
mouth  that  prompted  his  companions  to  leave  him  to 
himself.  They  knew  their  customer. 

In  the  stokers'  forecastle  Jack  Armitage  had  made 
himself  quickly  known  as  a  man  whom  it  was  un- 
wise to  monkey  with.  Directly  he  joined  the  ship, 
he  gave  them  to  understand  that  clearly.  The  cock 
of  the  boiler-room,  a  bully  who  had  heretofore  run 
things  to  suit  himself,  rashly  started  an  argument 
with  the  newcomer,  and  before  he  knew  what  had 
hit  him,  he  was  a  fit  subject  for  the  hospital.  Quick 
to  admire  physical  strength,  his  comrades  respected 
Armitage  after  that  episode,  and  they  nicknamed 
him  Gentleman  Jack,  because  his  English  was 
straighter  than  theirs  and  because  he  appeared  to  , 
have  known  better  days.  Sometimes  they  hailed  ! 
him  as  "Handsome,"  because  of  his  shape,  regular 
features  and  wavy  hair.  Of  his  history  they  knew 
nothing,  and  seeing  that  he  was  moody  and  uncom- 
municative, no  one  ventured  to  arouse  his  wrath  by 
asking  questions  that  he  might  consider  too  per- 
sonal. Besides,  no  one  cared.  There's  no  "Who's 

13 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Who  ?"  in  a  steamer's  stoke-hold.  A  natural  refuge 
for  the  scum  of  the  cities — for  those  wanted  by  the 
police  as  well  as  for  those  who  have  failed — even  a 
detective  will  hesitate  to  follow  his  quarry  into  the 
red  jaws  of  hell  itself.  To  this,  as  much  as  any- 
thing else,  the  stoke-hold  owes  its  reputation  as  the 
modern  Sanctuary. 

So  they  let  Armitage  alone.  He  did  his  "shift" 
along  with  the  rest,  gaining  promotion  first  as  coal- 
passer,  then  as  trimmer,  then  as  fireman.  His  serv- 
ices were  valued  because  of  his  great  strength  and 
power  of  endurance.  He  could  go  on  raking  and 
pulling  out  fires  long  after  his  mate  had  fallen  back 
exhausted.  But  with  his  superiors  he  was  not  very 
popular.  Discontented,  intolerant  of  discipline,  mu- 
tinous, he  was  nearly  always  in  trouble,  and,  owing 
to  his  violent,  uncontrollable  temper,  quarrels  were 
incessant  even  with  his  comrades.  They  feared  him 
more  than  they  loved  him,  and  perhaps  this  ex- 
plained why  his  present  attempt  to  induce  them  to 
desert  ship  just  before  sailing-time  had  not  met  with 
much  success. 

The  first  speaker  went  on : 
14 


'They'll  catch  ye,  it's  a  cinch!  Then  it'll  go 
hard  wid  ye.  'Tain't  no  worser  for  you  than  for 
the  rest  of  us,  The  boiler-room's  bad  enough,  I 
grant  ye  that,  but  it's  a  darn  sight  better  than  goin' 
to  jail.  What  do  you  say,  Dutch?"  he  demanded, 
turning  to  another. 

Armitage  maintained  his  sulky  silence.  The  man 
called  "Dutch,"  a  lantern-jawed  chap  with  red  hair 
and  a  squint,  expectorated  a  long  stream  of  saliva 
on  the  floor  before  replying.  Shifting  his  quid,  he 
said: 

"I  guess  Shorty's  right,  Jack.  I  ain't  no  fonder 
of  dojn'  the  suicide  act  in  that  hell-hole  than  ye 
is  yerself,  I'd  quit  right  now,  and  never  want  to 
see  the  sight  of  a  bloomin'  ship  again.  But  we've 
signed  for  the  voyage,  ain't  we  ?  We  must  grin  and 
bear  it  for  another  trip.  The  law  gives  'em  the  right 
on  us.  I'm  goin'  back  now,  before  I'm  taken  back. 
What  d'ye  say,  Bill?" 

Bill,  already  half-seas  over,  nodded  in  a  stupid, 
maudlin  manner.  He  had  drunk  so  much  that  he 
could  hardly  keep  his  head  up,  and  the  words  came 
thickly  from  his  lips : 

15 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"Desert  ship? — hie!  No,  siree!  Hie!  Ye  re- 
member— Robinson,  who  tried  to  beat  it  at  Naples  ? 
Hie!  They  didn't  do  a  thing  to  him — almost  fed 
the  bloody  furnace  with  him,  that's  all!  No,  siree, 
no  pier-head  jumps  for  me!" 

The  clock  in  the  outer  shop  struck  eleven.  Shorty 
jumped  to  his  feet. 

"Say,  lads!"  he  exclaimed,  with  another  nervous 
glance  toward  the  street.  "The  blessed  ship  sails  in 
another  hour.  We'll  be  missed  and  they'll  be  after 
us,  sure  as  yer  born.  I'm  goin'  back  right  now. 
Who's  comin'?" 

Bill  and  "Dutch"  staggered  with  difficulty  to  their 
feet.  While  Shorty  settled  accounts  with  the  urbane 
Schmalz,  "Dutch"  turned  to  Armitage,  who  re- 
mained seated  at  the  table. 

"Ain't  ye  goin'  back,  Jack?"  he  demanded,  as  he 
shot  with  expert  aim  another  stream  of  saliva  into 
Schmalz's  cracked  cuspidor. 

Armitage  raised  his  head  and  glared  at  them. 
There  was  a  look  in  his  face  that  made  "Dutch" 
wince.  Hoarsely,  savagely  he  burst  out: 

"You  call  yourselves  men !    You're  nothing  but  a 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

lot  of  white-livered,  whining  curs!  You've  had  a 
taste  of  hell  in  that  ship,  and  you  want  to  go  back 
and  endure  another  three  months  of  it,  because  you 
haven't  manhood  enough  to  put  an  end  to  it.  I'll 
not  sail,  I  tell  you.  They'll  never  take  me  back,  do 
you  hear?" 

"Does  ye  mean  ye  goin'  to  desert?"  demanded 
Shorty,  eyeing  the  big  fellow  with  astonishment. 

The  other  two  men  stared  at  him,  open-mouthed. 
"Dutch"  scratched  his  head,  and,  to  better  conceal 
his  emotion,  let  go  another  flyer  of  saliva  at  the  cus- 
pidor. Then,  with  great  deliberation,  he  bit  off  an- 
other chew  of  tobacco,  and  said,  with  a  nasal  drawl : 

"P'r'aps  we  might  make  so  bold  as  to  inquire  of 
the  gen'l'man  what  'ees  goin'  ter  do  fer  a  livin'. 
I  allus  suspected  he  didn't  'ave  ter  work  if  'ee  didn't 
'ave  ter.  But  if  'ee's  come  in  for  a  fortune  'ee  might 
let  'is  pals  know  summat  about  it." 

"I  guess  'ee's  gwine  ter  be  a  bloomin'  bondholder 
and  cut  his  coupons!"  grinned  Bill,  in  a  feeble  at- 
tempt at  jocularity. 

Armitage  bit  his  lip  and  scowled.  He  was  in  nq 
humor  for  jests,  and  his  hand  moved  dangerously, 

17 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

in  the  direction  of  the  empty  whiskey-bottle.  Bill 
ducked  and  the  other  men  immediately  gave  the 
table  a  wider  berth.  Shorty  cast  another  nervous 
glance  at  the  clock. 

"Come,  boys,"  he  said  impatiently.  "We  ain't  got 
no  time  to  lose.  Stop  yer  foolin',  Armitage.  Let's 
get  back  to  the  ship,  or  there'll  be  the  devil  to  pay." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silent  suspense.  The 
other  men  looked  toward  Armitage,  who  did  not 
stir.  Shorty  stepped  forward  and  shook  him  by  the 
arm.  Armitage  jerked  himself  free  with  an  oath, 
and,  raising  his  fist,  powerful  as  a  sledge-hammer, 
brought  it  down  on  the  table  with  a  force  that  made 
the  glasses  dance.  His  eyes  literally  blazed  with 
fury  as  he  turned  on  his  comrades. 

"Go  and  be  damned!"  he  shouted.  "Go  back  to 
the  ship  and  tell  'em  to  count  me  out.  I'll  go  to  hell 
soon  enough  without  getting  hell  here,  too.  Don't 
worry  about  what'll  become  of  me.  I  guess  I'll  be 
all  right.  Anyhow,  I'm  not  goin'  back,  do  ye  hear  ? 
If  I  was  a  coward,  afraid  to  call  my  soul  my  own, 
like  you  fellows,  it'd  be  different.  But  I  ain't !" 

Shorty  flushed  up.  He  had  been  a  champion  light- 
18 


weight  boxer  before  things  went  wrong  and  he  took 
to  the  sea,  and  he  resented  this  reflection  on  his  per- 
sonal courage.  He  had  not  yet  had  an  encounter 
with  Armitage,  but  he  knew  enough  of  the  science 
of  self-defense  not  to  be  as  much  intimidated  by  the 
big  fellow  as  were  the  rest  of  his  shipmates.  Ad- 
vancing spunkily,  he  retorted: 

"No  man  ever  yet  called  me  a  coward,  "Hand- 
some," an'  I  ain't  goin'  to  take  it  from  you.  If  it 
comes  to  a  showdown,  the  coward's  the  chap  as  de- 
serts 'is  ship,  not  the  chap  as  stands  by  'is  signed 
articles." 

Armitage  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  six  feet  of  ath- 
letic masculinity  towering  above  them  all, 

"Clear  out !  Clear  out !"  he  shouted,  wildly  wav- 
ing his  arms.  "Clear  out  before  I  kill  one  of  you!" 

Bill  and  "Dutch"  obeyed  with  almost  ludicrous 
alacrity,  and  retreated  into  the  outer  shop,  but 
Shorty  pluckily  stood  his  ground.  Before  Armitage 
could  lay  hands  on  him,  the  cockney  closed  to  the 
attack,  a  sinewy  arm  shot  out  like  a  flash,  and  there 
was  a  thundering  smack  as  the  blow  went  home  on 
Armitage's  jaw. 

J9 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

For  a  brief  moment  the  athlete  staggered,  but 
more  from  sheer  surprise  than  anything  else.  Then, 
with  a  volley  of  fierce  expletives,  he  made  a  savage 
rush  at  his  adversary.  The  men  clinched,  arms  and 
legs  whirled  around  in  a  cyclone  of  dust,  tables  and 
chairs  were  sent  crashing  to  all  corners  of  the  room. 
It  was  all  over  in  a  minute.  By  the  time  Schmalz, 
terrified  by  the  noise  of  the  fracas,  ran  in  to  see  what 
was  the  matter,  Shorty  was  lying  on  his  back  on  the 
floor,  bleeding  profusely  from  the  nose. 

While  Bill  and  "Dutch"  helped  the  worsted  ex- 
champion  to  a  chair,  Armitage  coolly  readjusted  the 
rest  of  the  scattered  furniture,  and,  resuming  his 
seat  at  the  table,  bellowed  at  Schmalz,  who  stood, 
open-mouthed : 

"Don't  stand  grinning  there,  you  blamed  fool! 
Let's  have  some  more  whiskey.  This  scrapping 
makes  one  thirsty." 

Schmalz  hesitated.  He  stood  in  no  little  fear  of 
his  burly  customer.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  dan- 
gerous to  let  him  go  on  drinking.  There  was  no 
telling  what  he  might  do.  He  looked  from  Shorty, 

20 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

who  was  trying  to  stop  his  nose-bleed,  to  the  broken 
glasses  on  the  floor. 

"I  guess  you  haf  enough  alretty  yet,"  he  growled. 

Armitage  struck  the  table  viciously. 

"Don't  stand  chinning  there!"  he  shouted. 
"Bring  some  booze  on  the  double  quick,  or  it'll  be  the 
worse  for  you!" 

With  a  helpless  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  Schmalz 
went  after  more  liquor.  Shorty,  partly  recovered 
from  the  knock-out,  staggered  painfully  to  his  feet 
and  made  for  the  door,  followed  by  "Dutch"  and 
Bill.  When  he  reached  the  threshold,  the  defeated 
fireman  turned  and  shook  his  fist  at  Armitage. 

"Yer'll  be  sorry  for  this,  'Handsome'!"  he 
shouted.  "I'll  get  even  with  ye  afore  the  day's 
out." 

Armitage  shrugged  his  shoulders  by  way  of  an- 
swer, and  the  three  men  slouched  out.  As  Shorty 
passed  Schmalz  in  the  outer  store,  he  said  to  the 
German  in  an  undertone: 

"Look  out  for  him,  d'ye  hear?  He's  a  bad  'un. 
He's  not  to  be  trusted !" 

21 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

Jerking  his  thumb  significantly  in  the  direction  of 
the  cash-drawer,  he  whispered : 

"He'd  as  soon  cut  your  throat  as  not — for  what 
ye've  got  there." 

Schmalz  turned  pale.     Shorty  went  on: 

"I've  got  an  account  to  square  with  him.  Give 
him  all  the  whiskey  he  wants.  Keep  him  here  until 
we  can  get  back  to  the  steamer.  They'll  come  and 
nab  him.  Serve  him  right.  He's  better  out  of  yer 
way." 

"Ya-ya!"  exclaimed  Schmalz  nervously.  "But 
mach  Schnell,  eh?" 

The  men  hurried  away,  leaving  their  irate  ship- 
mate to  his  own  reflexions.  For  a  long  time  after 
their  departure  there  reigned  a  perfect  quiet,  which 
seemed  all  the  more  intense  by  contrast  with  the  re- 
cent turmoil.  Schmalz,  busy  at  his  desk,  absorbed 
in  the  arduous  task  of  disentangling  his  accounts, 
gave  no  heed  to  his  quarrelsome  customer,  who,  now 
that  the  immediate  cause  of  his  irritation  was  re- 
moved, was  inclined  to  be  more  amiable.  His  sul- 
lenness  of  manner  disappeared  and  he  seemed  even 
willing  to  argue  amicably  with  his  host  the  merit' 

22 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

of  the  recent  affray.  Schmalz  paid  no  attention,  yet 
the  fireman  talked  on.  It  wasn't  his  fault,  he  in- 
sisted. Shorty  had  called  him  names,  and  he 
wouldn't  stand  that  from  any  man.  He  knew  what 
he  was  about.  Flesh  and  blood  simply  couldn't  stand 
that  stoke-hold  any  longer.  Only  the  last  trip,  one 
of  the  men  collapsed  under  the  strain.  Seized  with 
"stoker's  madness,"  he  had  rushed  to  the  deck  and 
jumped  overboard.  He'd  had  enough  of  such  hor- 
rors. He'd  die  rather  than  return  to  the  ship. 

"D'ye  hear,  Schmalz?"  he  shouted,  to  better  at- 
tract his  host's  attention.  "I  tell  ye  I'm  through 
with  seagoing.  They'll  never  get  me  back !" 

Schmalz,  however,  turned  a  deaf  ear.  He  was 
unwilling  or  else  too  busy  to  listen.  So,  finding  that 
he  had  no  one  to  whom  he  could  impart  his  sorrows, 
Armitage  turned  once  more  to  the  whiskey-bottle, 
with  the  idea  of  drowning  them.  The  strong  liquor 
soon  had  the  effect  of  making  him  drowsy.  His 
head  dropped  heavily  on  his  broad  chest  and  his 
snores  shook  the  room. 

He  might  have  slept  in  this  way  for  hours  with- 
out disturbance,  only  Schmalz  clumsily  dropped  a 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

tray,  and  the  sudden  crash  aroused  the  stoker  with 
a  start.  Rubbing  his  eyes,  he  turned  eagerly  to  the 
clock,  and  a  look  of  satisfaction  overspread  his  face. 
The  Atlanta  would  soon  be  on  her  way  to  the  Medit- 
erranean. Half  an  hour  more  and  he  would  have 
nothing  to  fear.  They  would  have  sailed  without 
him.  Then  he  need  skulk  no  longer  in  this  den.  He 
could  go  forth  a  free  man,  at  liberty  to  do  what  he 
chose. 

But  as  his  befuddled  brain  began  to  clear,  he  grew 
uneasy.  He  knew  the  boiler-room  was  short-handed. 
They  must  have  discovered  his  absence.  Shorty  and 
the  others,  in  revenge,  would  be  likely  to  peach  on 
him  and  say  where  he  was  to  be  found.  The  officers 
would  come  after  him  and  drag  him  back  to  that 
abominable  stoke-hold.  He  knew  enough  of  the 
shipping  laws  to  be  aware  that  they  had  the  right. 
He  being  an  English  fireman  in  a  foreign  port,  all 
they  had  to  do  was  to  go  before  the  British  consul 
and  secure  his  arrest.  Putting  his  hand  to  his  hip 
pocket,  he  drew  out  a  revolver  and  regarded  lov- 
ingly its  polished  surface. 

"My  only  friend !"  he  muttered.  "Let  'em  come ! 
24 


I'll  give  'em  all  the  fight  they  want — more  than  they 
want !  I'll  put  a  bullet  through  my  own  head  rather 
than  be  dragged  back  to  that  stoke-hold !" 

And  if  the  Atlanta  sailed  without  him — what 
then  ?  He  had  had  enough  of  the  sea,  that  was  cer- 
tain, yet  he  must  earn  a  living  somehow.  He  hadn't 
a  dollar  in  the  world,  and  he  knew  no  trade  that  he 
could  turn  his  hand  to.  His  life  at  sea  had  unfitted 
him  for  anything  else.  Even  if  he  made  the  effort 
and  let  the  whiskey  alone,  how  could  he  seek  employ- 
ment looking  as  he  did?  With  no  linen  and  in  his 
grimy,  oil-stained  clothes,  he  would  be  eyed  every- 
where with  suspicion.  Nobody  would  have  anything 
to  do  with  him.  The  world  has  no  use  for  its  fail- 
ures, for  men  who  are  down  on  their  luck.  The  out- 
look was  hopeless,  for  he  saw  no  way  to  improve 
his  condition. 

"It's  easy  to  lose  one's  self-respect  and  sink  into 
degradation,"  he  muttered  bitterly  to  himself;  "and 
when  at  last  you  see  your  folly,  then  it's  too  late — 
it's  impossible  to  get  back.  Pshaw!  What's  the 
good?" 

With  a  shaking  hand,  he  helped  himself  to  an- 
25 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

other  drink,  grateful  to  the  lethal  liquor  which  dulled 
his  thoughts.  Yet,  in  spite  of  himself,  his  clouded 
brain  remained  active.  Memory  slipped  back  ten 
years.  If  only  those  years  could  be  lived  over  again ! 
How  dearly  he  had  paid  for  the  follies  which  had 
brought  him  where  he  was!  Wild  oats?  Yes — he 
had  sown  them  in  plenty,  and  a  damnable  harvest 
he  had  reaped !  Things  had  gone  from  bad  to  worse, 
until  one  day  came  the  crisis.  He  was  down  and 
out,  almost  starving,  without  a  friend  to  extend  a 
helping  hand.  After  he  had  fasted  forty-eight 
hours,  and  the  river  seemed  to  be  the  only  way  out, 
a  barroom  companion  told  him  of  a  job  as  coal- 
passer  on  an  ocean  liner  which  was  to  be  had  for 
the  asking.  He  jumped  eagerly  at  the  chance  as  a 
drowning  man  grasps  at  a  drifting  straw.  At  least, 
it  would  mean  temporary  food  and  lodging.  He 
was  strong  as  an  ox  and  could  stand  the  pace,  no 
matter  how  hard  the  work  was.  Besides,  hidden 
away  in  a  steamer's  stoke-hold,  he  reckoned  out  that 
he  would  be  dead  to  the  world.  No  one  would  think 
of  seeking  him  there.  The  brutal  work  and  brutal 
companions  would  help  him  to  forget  the  past. 

26 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

For  five  long  years  he  had  stood  it,  but  he  could 
endure  it  no  longer.  Five  years  of  physical  and 
mental  torment,  and  the  future—a  hopeless  blank. 
The  old  days  were  wiped  out  completely,  every  de- 
cent tie  shattered  forever.  He  could  never  redeem 
the  past.  He  had  joined  the  vast  army  of  life's  fail- 
ures, which  goes  marching  on,  silently,  grimly  to 
perdition.  The  sooner  the  end  came  the  better.  He 
was  weary  of  it  all.  The  best  way  would  be  to  make 
an  end  of  it  at  once.  He  knew  he  had  only  himself 
to  blame,  but,  like  most  men  who  have  gone  to  the 
devil,  he  held  society  responsible.  The  world  is 
without  pity  for  those  who  make  mistakes.  The 
man  who's  down  is  given  no  mercy.  They  said  he 
was  quarrelsome,  a  trouble-maker.  So  he  was.  In 
all  these  years  of  suffering  he  had  steeled  his  heart 
to  hate  his  fellow  man.  He  detested  the  rich,  idle 
class  because  he  held  it  accountable  for  his  present 
miserable  condition,  and  in  obscure  socialistic  and 
anarchistic  meetings  in  the  slums  of  New  York  and 
London  he  had  listened  gloomily  to  the  wild-eyed 
orators'  frenzied  teachings  of  class-hatred.  His  suf- 
ferings had  embittered  him  against  the  whole  human 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

race.  He  had  fought  his  way  through  it  all  fiercely, 
because  the  whole  world  seemed  in  league  against 
him,  every  man  and  woman  his  enemy.  The  only 
law  he  knew  was  that  enforced  by  a  strong  arm. 
The  weaker  had  no  rights.  It  wasn't  his  fault  if  he 
had  to  defend  himself.  He  had  given  the  world 
back  what  it  gave  him  and  with  interest.  That's 
why  he  hit  back  every  time  blindly,  savagely. 

With  an  unsteady  hand,  he  took  up  the  whiskey- 
bottle  and  started  to  refill  his  glass.  His  back  was 
partly  toward  the  door,  so  he  could  not  see  the  front 
store  suddenly  darken  by  the  abrupt  entrance  of 
four  men  who  pushed  their  way  unceremoniously 
past  Schmalz  and  rushed  into  the  room  where  he 
was  sitting.  Two  of  the  newcomers  were  ship's 
officers,  the  others  were  policemen. 

Armitage  was  taken  completely  by  surprise.  He 
knew  at  once  that  they  had  come  for  him.  With  an 
oath,  he  jumped  to  his  feet  and  his  right  hand  went 
quickly  to  his  hip  pocket.  But  before  he  could  draw 
his  gun,  the  officers  and  policemen  threw  themselves 

upon  him  and  pinioned  his  arms. 

28 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"You'd  better  come  quickly,  Armitage,  or  it'll  go 
•-.arder  with  you !"  said  the  senior  officer  sternly. 

"What  d'ye  want  with  me?"  demanded  the  fire- 
man hoarsely. 

"You're  under  arrest  for  desertion,"  replied  his 
superior. 

"Where  d'ye  want  me  to  go?"  stammered  Armi- 
tage, his  breath  coming  and  going  in  short,  spas- 
modic gasps. 

"Back  to  the  ship.  Not  as  you're  much  good — 
only  to  give  you  your  medicine,"  was  the  laconic  re- 
joinder. 

"Back  to  the  ship !  Never  while  I  live !"  shouted 
the  big  fellow. 

By  a  superhuman  muscular  effort  he  threw  off  his 
four  captors  as  easily  as  if  they  had  been  children, 
and  made  a  dash  for  liberty  through  the  store.  But 
he  was  not  yet  clear  of  his  foes.  Seeing  him  com- 
ing, Schmalz  quickly  put  out  his  foot,  and  the  fugi- 
tive fell  all  his  length  to  the  floor.  Before  he  could 
scramble  to  his  feet  again,  the  policemen  were  upon 

him,  and  soon  had  his  arms  securely  pinioned. 

29 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"Quick,  back  to  the  ship  with  him!"  commanded 
the  senior  officer.  "She  sails  in  ten  minutes.  We've 
just  time  to  make  it !" 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  scene  on  the  dock  just  before  sailing-time 
of  an  ocean  liner  is  always  an  animated  one, 
full  of  interest  and  color  for  those  having 
eyes  to  see.  The  huge  steamer,  freshly  painted,  all 
spick  and  span,  laden  to  the  water-line  with  precious 
freight,  her  enormous  funnels  belching  clouds  of 
black  smoke,  with  white  steam  hissing  from  every 
part  of  her  giant  hulk,  as  if  the  imprisoned  energy 
were  eager  to  put  its  power  to  the  test ;  the  air  filled 
with  the  babel  of  many  voices,  smart  stewards  stand- 
ing at  attention  on  the  lower  deck,  ready  to  serve 
the  embarking  passengers,  uniformed  sailors  hurry- 
ing to  obey  sharply  given  orders ;  officers  resplendent 
in  immaculate  white  duck  and  gold  braid,  solemnly 
promenading  the  bridge,  as  if  impressed  with  the 
weight  of  their  responsibility;  excited  travelers  ar- 
riving in  every  description  of  vehicle;  messengers 
rushing  here  and  there  with  floral  baskets  and  hot- 
house fruit  sent  as  parting  gifts;  telegraph-boys 

31 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

bringing  words  of  farewell;  tear-stained  faces  smil- 
ing au  revoir,  handkerchiefs  waving  and  much 
shouting;  policemen  pushing  back  the  spectators 
anxious  to  see  the  last  of  friends  and  relatives;  the 
crowd  growing  gradually  smaller  and  the  shouts 
more  distant  as  the  leviathan  swings  out  in  to  the 
stream — all  this  makes  up  a  picture  which,  once  be- 
held, is  forever  engraved  on  heart  and  memory. 

The  annual  around-the-world  cruise  of  the  palatial 
Blue  Star  steamer  Atlanta,  17,000  tons,  was  always 
an  event  of  more  than  ordinary  interest,  and  sailing- 
day  never  failed  to  draw  a  large  crowd.  In  fact,  go- 
ing down  to  the  dock  to  give  a  noisy  send-off  to 
those  friends  lucky  enough  to  be  able  to  make  the 
delightful  Mediterranean  trip  had  of  recent  years 
assumed  the  importance  of  a  social  function.  The 
voyage  being  pre-eminently  for  health  and  pleasure, 
it  generally  attracted  a  goodly  number  of  well-to-do 
and  congenial  people.  Many  of  the  passengers,  mov- 
ing in  the  same  sets  in  society,  were  already  well 
acquainted  before  going  on  board,  and  strangers  had 
no  difficulty  in  securing  introductions.  Almost  as 
soon  as  the  anchor  was  weighed,  the  barriers  of  ex- 

32 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

clusiveness  were  thrown  down.  Before  the  vessel 
had  proceeded  very  far  from  port,  every  one  knew 
every  one  else,  and  the  ship's  company  had  become 
one  big  jolly  family. 

The  passenger-list  contained  many  names  well 
known  in  society.  Mrs.  Townsend  Lee,  one  of  the 
leaders  of  New  York's  400,  was  on  board;  so  was 
Mrs.  Wesley  Stuart,  whose  musicales  were  counted 
among  the  most  delightful  affairs  of  the  season. 
Professor  Hanson,  the  noted  sociologist,  was  a  pas- 
senger ;  so  also  was  Mrs.  Phelps,  the  wealthy  young 
widow  whose  recent  bereavement  had  made  her  the 
target  of  every  impecunious  nobleman  in  Europe. 
It  was  perhaps  only  a  coincidence,  yet  still  a  fact  the 
significance  of  which  escaped  no  one,  that  two  state- 
rooms had  been  engaged — one  by  the  Honorable 
Percy  Fitzhugh,  a  callow  Englishman  who  had  made 
himself  ridiculous  with  a  Casino  chorus-girl,  the 
other  by  Count  Herbert  von  Hatzfeld,  scion  of  an 
aristocratic  German  family,  who  in  a  newspaper  in- 
terview gave  out  that  he  was  globe-trotting  for  his 
health.  Gossip  had  linked  the  names  of  both  men 
with  Mrs.  Phelps,  and  as  neither  had  been_at_an)r 

33 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

pains  to  deny  that  he  was  a  suitor  for  the  widow's 
hand,  there  was  considerable  speculation  as  to  whom 
was  making  most  progress  in  her  favor. 

But  the  name  on  the  list  which  excited  most  inter- 
est and  comment  among  the  crowd  of  sightseers  and 
eeagoers  who  literally  mobbed  the  big  ship,  was  that 
of  Miss  Grace  Harmon,  the  beautiful  daughter  of 
the  well-known  railroad  magnate,  whose  debut  in 
society  two  years  before,  at  a  splendid  ball  given  in 
her  honor  at  the  Harmon's  palatial  Fifth  Avenue 
home,  was  still  talked  about  as  the  most  brilliant  and 
costly  affair  of  that  season. 

Grace  Harmon  was  conspicuous  for  her  beauty 
even  in  a  land  famous  for  its  fair  women.  Tall  and 
slender,  with  aristocratic  features  and  queenly  car- 
riage, she  was  the  typical  Gibson  girl.  Women  raved 
about  her  wonderful  complexion,  her  splendid  eyes, 
her  magnificent  hair,  her  graceful  figure.  They  went 
into  ecstasies  over  her  gowns,  her  beautifully  arched 
eyebrows,  academic  nose,  dazzling  white  teeth,  and 
a  sensitive,  delicately  modeled  mouth,  that  might 
have  tempted  Saint  Anthony  himself.  Men  looking 
for  money  whispered  that  she  was  the  prize  catch 

34 


of  the  matrimonial  market,  being  the  only  heir  to 
her  father's  millions,  and  the  more  enterprising  laid 
their  lines  accordingly.  When  she  went  out  driving 
or  appeared  in  her  box  at  the  opera,  everybody 
craned  their  necks  and  stared  rudely,  eager  to  feast 
their  eyes  on  the  priceless  gifts  this  favorite  of  for- 
tune had  received  from  the  gods.  In  their  cheap 
hall  bedrooms,  timid  poets  wrote  love-sonnets  which 
they  mailed  to  her  anonymously,  expecting  no  ac- 
knowledgment, happy  only  that  they  had  expressed 
on  paper  what  lay  heavy  on  their  hearts. 

So  far  Grace  had  shown  herself  indifferent  either 
to  sentiment  or  matrimonial  ambitions.  She  had 
not  encouraged  any  of  the  men  who  showered  her 
with  attentions,  and  even  with  her  intimates  she 
declined  to  discuss  what  they  declared  to  be  the  all- 
important  question.  But  that  eventually  she  would 
make  a  sensationally  brilliant  marriage  went  without 
the  saying,  and  society  wiseacres  predicted  that 
Prince  Sergius  of  Eurasia,  the  most  persistent  of 
her  suitors,  would  sooner  or  later  carry  off  the  prize. 
The  nephew  of  the  reigning  monarch  of  a  bankrupt 
little  kingdom  in  the  Balkans,  the  prince  had  been 

35 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

well  known  in  New  York  and  Newport  for  several 
seasons  past  as  a  dissipated  spendthrift  anxious  to 
make  a  good  matrimonial  catch.  Grace  had  disliked 
him  the  first  moment  she  set  eyes  on  him,  and  he  had 
never  succeeded  in  removing  this  first  unfavorable 
impression.  On  the  other  hand,  such  a  match  cer- 
tainly had  advantages  which  to  many  a  girl  would 
prove  too  dazzling  and  tempting  to  resist.  But 
Grace  declined  to  be  hurried  into  a  decision.  She  de- 
manded time,  and  while  waiting  to  know  his  fate  the 
Prince  was  suddenly  recalled  to  Europe.  This  was 
as  far  as  the  affair  had  gone,  and  secretly  Grace  was 
glad  to  see  the  last  of  him,  at  least  for  a  time,  al- 
though the  well-informed  press  sagely  gave  out  that 
it  was  "understood  in  society  circles  that  a  formal 
engagement  of  Miss  Grace  Harmon  and  the  Prince 
of  Eurasia  would  shortly  be  announced." 

Fully  conscious  of  her  power,  well  aware  that  her 
mere  presence  aroused  jealousy  in  every  woman  and 
admiration  in  every  man,  Grace  would  have  been 
more  than  human  had  she  escaped  being  spoiled. 
The  spitefully  inclined  accused  her  of  haughtiness 
and  of  carrying  her  head  high.  It  is  true  that  she 

36 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

was  careful  in  choosing  her  intimates  and  quick  to 
snub  those  who  were  too  ready  to  claim  acquaint- 
ance, yet  friends  once  made  she  kept,  and  she  was 
popular  in  her  set.  In  the  more  private  home  circle 
she  was  fairly  idolized,  especially  by  her  father,  who 
had  indulged  her  every  whim  ever  since  she  was 
born.  Her  mother,  for  years  a  chronic  invalid,  had 
left  chiefly  to  servants  the  care  of  bringing  her  up, 
but  to  her  father  she  was  all  that  was  worth  while 
in  life.  The  old  man  existed  only  for  his  beautiful 
daughter.  Everything  money  could  purchase — fine 
clothes,  costly  trinkets,  smart  automobiles  were  hers 
for  the  asking.  After  graduating  from  Bryn  Mawr, 
she  spent  two  years  in  France,  Italy  and  Germany, 
acquiring  a  superficial  knowledge  of  the  continental 
languages.  On  her  return  home  she  joined  the  so- 
cial whirl  and  became  proficient  in  bridge.  In  short, 
Grace  Harmon  was  accomplished  to  the  tips  of  her 
tapering,  carefully  manicured  fingers. 

Brought  up  in  the  lap  of  luxury,  never  having  ex- 
pressed a  desire  that  was  not  immediately  gratified, 
Grace  discovered  after  a  time  that  wealth,  while 
useful,  has  also  its  drawbacks.  Having  everything1, 

37 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

she  wanted  nothing.  She  found  herself  wishing 
there  might  be  something  she  could  not  have,  so  that 
for  once,  at  least,  she  might  experience  the  emotion 
of  longing  for  the  unattainable. 

The  plain  truth  was  that  Grace  was  no  ordinary 
girl.  She  had  more  brains  than  people  gave  her 
credit  for.  Although  reared  in  the  tainted  hot- 
house atmosphere  of  society,  with  its  degenerate 
amusements,  its  low  moral  tone  and  trivial  ambi- 
tions, she  took  little  real  interest  in  its  shallow,  vul- 
gar pleasures.  The  women  she  soon  discovered  to 
be  empty-headed  or  frankly  immoral ;  the  men  were, 
for  the  most  part,  libertines,  gamblers,  fortune- 
hunters.  The  homage  paid  to  her  beauty  flattered 
her  vanity,  but  once  the  novelty  of  her  first  two  sea- 
sons had  worn  away,  surfeited  with  dinners,  recep- 
tions, dances,  and  bridge-parties,  she  grew  deadly 
tired  of  the  social  treadmill.  It  ceased  to  amuse  her. 
She  felt  there  was  something  wanting  to  complete 
her  happiness.  She  lost  her  buoyancy  of  disposition, 
her  high  spirits  disappeared,  even  her  beauty  paled. 
She  became  depressed  and  melancholy.  People 
whispered  that  she  was  going  into  a  decline.  There 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

had  been  a  case  of  consumption  in  the  family,  they 
said.  Her  father,  laughingly  declaring  that  she  was 
in  love,  asked  for  the  name  of  the  lucky  man. 

"Are  you  going  to  make  the  Prince  happy  at  last, 
child?"  he  said. 

"No,  dad,"  she  replied  seriously.  "It's  nothing 
to  do  with  that.  Among'all  the  men  who've  paid  me 
attention  there's  not  one  I'd  marry — now." 

What  seemed  to  Grace  a  more  correct  diagnosis 
of  her  trouble  was  made  by  Mrs.  Wesley  Stuart,  her 
practical  married  friend: 

"It's  only  your  nerves,  my  dear — a  natural  reac- 
tion after  the  pace  you've  been  going.  What  you 
need  is  a  radical  change  of  scene,  something  to  stim- 
ulate your  imagination.  Take  a  trip  around  the 
world.  If  you'll  go,  I'll  go  with  you." 

Wesley  Stuart  was  one  of  the  big  men  in  the  Steel 
Trust  and  several  times  a  millionaire.  Gossip  had 
long  hinted  that  there  was  no  love  lost  between  him 
and  his  young  wife,  and  she  never  denied  it.  He 
went  his  way ;  she  went  hers.  She  had  all  the  money 
her  expensive  tastes  called  for,  and  this,  coupled 
with  a  certain  amount  of  natural  cleverness,  had 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

given  her  considerable  prominence  in  the  artistic  set. 
Her  musicales  were  a  success  because  her  ready  tact 
and  intimate  acquaintance  with  famous  artists  en- 
abled her  to  surround  herself  with  interesting  people. 
Having  some  musical  talent  herself,  she  nourished 
the  hopeless  ambition  that  one  day  she  would  be 
able  to  sing  in  opera.  Injudicious  friends  had  en- 
couraged her  in  this  fatuous  belief,  and  she  had 
worked  so  hard  and  spent  so  much  time  and  money 
studying  with  expensive  teachers,  with  the  idea  of 
going  on  the  stage,  that  at  last  her  health  gave  way. 
Threatened  with  nervous  breakdown,  her  physician 
had  advised  a  long  sea  voyage,  and  this  was  just 
the  opportunity  she  had  been  looking  for.  Both 
would  have  the  other's  company.  If  Grace  would 
go,  she  wouldn't  hesitate  a  second.  As  for  her  hus- 
band, he  would  be  glad  to  be  rid  of  her.  She  said 
it  as  a  jest ;  in  her  heart  she  knew  it  was  true.  Not 
that  she  cared.  Wesley  gave  her  all  the  money  she 
asked  for  and  never  interfered  with  her.  Accord- 
ing to  her  philosophy  of  life,  theirs  was  as  perfect 
a  matrimonial  understanding  as  she  could  wish  for. 
The  idea  of  the  trip  at  once  appealed  strongly  to 
40 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Grace.  Enthusiastically  she  declared  that  she  would 
like  nothing  better.  It  would  be  so  novel  and  ex- 
citing, quite  unlike  any  experience  she  had  yet  had. 
Some  friends  who  had  already  made  the  trip  gave 
glowing  accounts  of  their  travels,  and  the  more  she 
thought  of  it  the  more  decided  she  was  that  around 
the  world  she  would  go.  This  decided  it,  for  when 
once  Grace  made  up  her  mind,  everything  was  as 
good  as  settled.  Nothing  her  father  or  mother 
might  say  could  deter  her  from  the  project.  She 
pleaded  that  the  trip  was  absolutely  necessary,  not 
only  for  her  health,  but  as  a  finishing  touch  to  her 
education.  The  ship  was  not  only  going  to  China, 
Japan,  India,  and  Egypt.  It  would  visit  also  many 
out-of-the-way  islands  which  are  practically  inaccess- 
ible to  the  usual  tourist  and  seldom  if  ever  visited. 
As  a  lesson  in  geography  alone  it  was  worth  the 
money.  Harmon  pere  did  not  mind  the  expense. 
The  few  thousands  the  trip  would  cost  was  a  baga- 
telle to  the  man  of  millions.  What  he  balked  at  was 
the  idea  of  losing  his  cherished  daughter  for  six  long 
months.  The  uncertainties  of  Wall  Street  made  it 
impossible  for  him  to  accompany  her,  and  Mrs.  Har- 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

mon  suffered  so  horribly  from  seasickness  that  she 
threw  up  her  hands  at  the  very  suggestion.  Seizing 
the  excuse  that  a  young  girl  could  not  go  unaccom- 
panied, her  father,  for  the  first  time  in  his  recollec- 
tion, asserted  his  authority,  emphatically  refused 
consent,  and  was  obdurate  to  all  coaxing.  Then 
Grace  played  her  trump  card.  Their  friend  Mrs. 
Stuart  was  going  on  the  same  steamer.  With  a 
married  woman  for  a  chaperon,  what  further  objec- 
tion could  there  be?  Seeing  that  he  was  check- 
mated, and  that  his  daughter,  as  usual,  would  have 
her  way  in  the  end  anyhow,  Mr.  Harmon  reluctantly 
capitulated. 

He  was  down  at  the  steamer  to  see  her  off,  a  tall, 
distinguished-looking,  silvery-haired  old  gentleman, 
conspicuous  in  the  group  of  friends  who  had  come 
to  bid  his  daughter  bon  voyage.  It  was  a  noisy, 
jolly,  unruly  crowd.  Every  one  talked  at  the  same 
time,  pushing  and  elbowing,  blocking  the  gangway 
up  which  rushed  each  minute  fresh  arrivals  laden 
with  rugs  and  handbags.  Ten  minutes  more  and 
the  "All  ashore"  gong  would  sound,  and  then  the 
big  ship  would  slowly  pull  out  and  point  her  nose  for 

42 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

the  open  sea.  Grace  stood  in  the  center  of  the  fash- 
ionably dressed  throng,  herself  stylishly  attired  in  a 
chic,  long  gray  cloth  directoire  coat  and  picture  hat, 
bestowing  smiles  and  handshakes  right  and  left  like 
a  queen  holding  court.  Everybody  was  in  high  spir- 
its, all  except  Mr.  Harmon,  who  tried  to  look  brave 
as  he  furtively  wiped  away  a  tear. 

"Don't  do  that,  dad,  or  I'll  spoil  my  complexion," 
whispered  Grace,  making  heroic  efforts  to  swallow 
a  hard  lump  that  arose  in  her  own  throat.  "One 
would  think  I  were  going  away  forever.  I'll  be  back 
safe  and  sound  before  you  imagine — you'll  see !" 

"I  hope  so,  child,  I  hope  so,"  murmured  the  old 
man,  clasping  her  to  his  breast.  "It's  foolish  of  me, 
of  course.  All  the  same,  I  can't  help  wishing  you 
weren't  going.  I  have  a  sort  of  presentiment  that 
something  will  happen." 

Grace  laughed  merrily. 

"Nonsense,  dad!  What  can  happen?  Nothing 
ever  happens  on  ocean  voyages.  They  are  awfully 
tame  and  exasperatingly  free  from  incident.  Ship- 
wrecks and  things  like  that  occur  only  in  novels. 
Sometimes  I  wish  things  would  happen." 

43 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"Really,  Grace !"  protested  a  feminine  voice  at  her 
side,  "I  do  wish  you  wouldn't  say  such  wicked 
things.  You  know  how  nervous  I  am." 

The  speaker  was  Mrs.  Wesley  Stuart,  under 
whose  protective  wing  Grace  was  traveling.  She 
was  a  willowy  and  rather  attractive  blonde,  not  yet 
in  the  thirties,  but  with  a  complexion  somewhat  the 
worse  for  rich  foods,  old  wines,  and  late  hours. 
Showily  dressed,  with  a  large  black  felt  mushroom 
hat  and  heavy  pearl  pendants  in  her  ears,  she  talked 
with  affected  languor  and  used  a  gold  lorgnon. 

"Your  father  is  quite  right,  dear,"  she  went  on. 
"There  are  all  sorts  of  perils  at  sea.  A  hundred 
things  might  happen.  Our  machinery  might  break 
down,  we  might  drift  for  weeks  without  being 
sighted,  we  might  collide  with  an  iceberg  in  the  fog, 
we  might  even  turn  turtle.  Don't  you  remember 
that  awful  affair  of  the  City  of  Berlin?  Of  course 
you  don't.  It  was  before  your  time — before  mine, 
too,  for  that  matter.  The  steamer  left  Liverpool 
about  thirty  years  ago,  crowded  with  passengers. 
She  never  reached  port,  and  has  never  been  heard 
of  from  that  day  to  this.  Every  vestige  of  her  was 

44 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

wiped  out.  They  never  picked  up  a  life-boat,  or  even 
so  much  as  a  steamer-chair.  The  theory  was  that 
she  turned  turtle  and  went  right  down." 

"No — really — you  don't  say  so!"  exclaimed  be- 
hind them  a  man's  voice  with  the  exaggerated  Pic- 
cadilly intonation  some  Englishmen  affect.  "It's  a 
jolly  shame,  don'tcher  know — to  frighten  Miss  Har- 
mon like  that.  She'll  believe  every  bally  thing  you 
tell  her  and  get  the  blue  spiders  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing — eh,  what?" 

Grace  turned,  smiling,  to  greet  the  Honorable 
Percy  Fitzhugh,  who  was  hemmed  in  the  crowd  at 
their  elbows.  He  had  just  come  aboard  with  a  green 
Tyrolian  hat  on  the  side  of  his  head,  a  monocle  in 
his  eye,  and  a  bull-terrier  tucked  under  his  arm. 
Close  behind  was  his  valet,  carrying  a  wonderful 
collection  of  walking-sticks  and  a  huge  bouquet  of 
flowers. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind !"  laughed  Grace.  "I'm  a  fine 
sailor  and  not  a  bit  nervous.  The  sea  has  no  terrors 
for  me." 

"I  wish  I  could  say  as  much,"  sighed  Mrs.  Stuart. 
Petulantly  she  added:  "I  never  feel  safe  on  the 

45 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

ocean.  I  don't  mind  storms,  but  I'm  terribly  afraid 
of  fog  and  icebergs  and  fire.  Whenever  it's  foggy  I 
can't  eat  or  sleep.  I'm  in  a  state  of  mental  anguish 
until  it  clears  again." 

"It's  a  jolly  good  thing  some  of  us  have  nerve — 
eh,  what?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Fitzhugh,  with  a  wink  at 
Grace.  Addressing  Mrs.  Stuart,  h»  went  on :  "You 
remind  me  of  Rex,  my  terrier  here.  He  loathes  the 
sea — howls  and  whines  dismally  the  whole  time.  But 
please  don't  get  the  blue  spiders,  that's  a  good  girl. 
We're  going  to  be  an  awfully  jolly  party.  Don't 
spoil  the  fun.  Try  a  champagne  cocktail.  Best  an- 
tidote for  nervousness  in  the  world.  If  one  don't 
work,  take  two.  You'll  feel  bully."  Turning  to  his 
man,  he  added:  "Thompson,  take  those  flowers  to 
my  stateroom,  and  go  and  see  about  my  'tub'  and 
steamer-chair." 

The  next  moment  the  Englishman  and  his  green 
thatch  were  swallowed  up  in  the  crush  of  new  ar- 
rivals. 

"Did  you  ever  see  such  a  coarse,  selfish  creature !" 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Stuart  indignantly.  "The  impu- 
dence of  his  comparing  me  to  his  miserable  dog !" 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"Who  are  the  flowers  for?"  laughed  Grace. 

"Mrs.  Phelps,  of  course.  He's  head  over  heels  in 
debt.  He  needs  her  money.  I  wouldn't  be  surprised 
if  he  didn't  catch  on.  She's  very  ambitious — the 
title  attracts  her.  There  she  conies  now." 

A  stylish,  handsome  woman,  richly  dressed  all  in 
black,  with  large  Gainsborough  hat  to  match,  came 
leisurely  up  the  gangplank,  followed  by  a  smart  foot- 
man weighed  down  with  packages.  She  nodded 
cordially  to  Grace  and  Mrs.  Stuart  as  she  caught 
sight  of  them,  and  disappeared  in  the  direction  of 
the  staterooms. 

"She's  literally  bursting  with  money,"  whispered 
Mrs.  Stuart,  who  knew  everybody's  business.  "Her 
husband  left  her  ten  millions.  He  was  a  simple  soul 
— a  plain,  matter-of-fact  business  man.  All  he 
thought  of  was  making  money.  She  never  cared  for 
him.  It's  just  as  well  he  died.  She  can  marry  again 
now  and  live  the  life  she  likes  best.  All  the  men 
are  after  her.  Some  think  Count  von  Hatzfeld  has 
the  best  chance.  Of  course  you  know  he's  on  the 
ship.  You  see,  it's  all  cut  and  dried." 
"I  don't  blame  her,"  said  Grace  cynically,  as  she 
47 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

returned  the  bow  of  another  arrival.  "It  must  be 
dreadful  to  be  a  mere  'Mrs.  Green'  or  'Mrs.  Brown/ 
I  couldn't  live  with  any  ordinary  man — a  mere  busi- 
ness man  whose  one  thought  was  figures  and  profits. 
My  ideal  is  an  English  peer  or  an  Italian  count — 
preferably  the  latter.  They  are  less  expensive.  Eng- 
lish dukes,  they  say,  drink  hard  and  beat  their  wives. 
It  would  be  nice  to  be  addressed  as  'Duchess,'  or 
'Comtesse.' ' 

Mrs.  Stuart  looked  approvingly  at  her  protegee. 
t  "I'm  glad  to  see  you're  so  practical,  my  dear." 

"Why  not?  This  is  a  practical  age,"  laughed 
Grace. 

"Well,  there's  Prince  Sergius.  He's  only  waiting 
the  word.  Why  don't  you  marry  him  and  be  a  prin- 
cess— only  two  lives  removed  from  a  throne  ?  Every 
woman  in  America  would  envy  you." 

Grace  frowned. 

"And  I — would  despise  myself?"  she  answered. 
"Every  one  knows  his  reputation.  It's  my  money  he 
wants,  that's  all.  I  haven't  yet  sunk  so  low  as  to 
purchase  a  titled  husband  at  the  price  of  my  self- 
respect.  Besides,  I  could  not  endure  a  tie  that  would 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

be  entirely  loveless,  wholly  mercenary.  I  hope  I 
have  some  ideals ;  some  sentiment  left." 

"Were  you  ever  in  love  ?"  persisted  her  companion. 

"I  suppose  I  was,  like  most  girls.  When  I  first 
left  school  I  saw  boys  I  liked.  All  girls  are  silly  at 
some  period  of  their  life.  But  I  survived  those  early 
attachments.  I  am  still  heart-whole.  I  never  see 
nowadays  a  man  with  whom  I  could  fall  in  love. 
To  me,  they  all  seem  conceited  and  selfish.  Of 
course  I  shall  have  to  marry  one  day  or  other,  but 
I'm  afraid  it  will  be  what  the  French  call  a  manage 
de  convenance. 

"Or,  in  plain  Yankee,  marriage  with  an  eye  to  the 
main  chance,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Stuart.  "But  you  don't 
have  to  marry  for  money,  child.  You  are  rich." 

Grace  was  thoughtful  a  moment,  and  then  she 
replied : 

"Money  is  not  everything — mere  money  is  vul- 
gar. One  gets  horribly  tired  of  it."  Pensively  she 
went  on :  "You  think  I  am  cold  and  devoid  of  sen- 
timent. You  are  wrong.  I  yearn  for  life  in  the  sun- 
lit countries  of  the  old  world,  in  historic  lands  of 
intrigue,  love,  and  passion,  with  brilliant  state  func- 

49 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

tions  amid  scenes  of  regal  splendor,  where  class  and 
birth  count  for  more  than  mere  wealth.  In  America 
we  have  only  the  money  standard.  The  wife  of  any 
little  grocer  who  gets  rich  overnight  may  be  a  social 
leader  to-morrow.  It's  disgusting!" 

Mrs.  Stuart  was  about  to  say  something  when  a 
sudden  commotion  on  the  dock  attracted  everybody's 
attention,  and  there  was  a  general  rush  to  the  rail. 
A  large  crowd  had  gathered  near  the  entrance  of  the 
gangway,  surrounding  a  man  who  lay  struggling 
on  the  ground.  Policemen  and  ship's  officers  were 
stooping  over  him  trying  to  quiet  him. 

"What's  the  matter?"  cried  Grace  anxiously.  "I 
hope  no  one's  hurt!" 

"It  looks  as  if  some  one  had  fallen  in  a  fit,"  said 
Mrs.  Stuart,  looking  through  her  lorgnon. 

Mr.  Harmon,  who  had  been  conversing  with  an 
acquaintance,  came  up  hurriedly.  Having  noticed 
the  excitement,  he  feared  that  some  harm  threatened 
his  daughter. 

"It's  an  accident  of  some  kind,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  I  knew  something  would  happen!"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Stuart,  getting  out  her  smelling-salts. 

50 


"Do  you  know  what  the  matter  is?"  inquired 
Grace  of  a  sailor. 

The  man  grinned  and  touched  his  cap. 
( 'Tain't  nothin',  miss.  Only  one  of  'em  blokes 
what  keeps  the  fire's  a-goin'  got  it  inter  ees  'ead  that 
it  was  too  bloomin'  'ot  for  'im.  So  'ee  jumps  the 
blessed  ship  without  so  much  as  askin'  leave,  an'  gets 
run  in  by  the  cops  fer  'is  pains." 

The  explanation,  such  as  it  was,  was  wholly  in- 
comprehensible to  Grace,  who  knew  as  much  as  she 
did  before.  Meantime  the  crowd  grew  bigger,  the 
noise  louder  and  the  excitement  more  intense.  A 
number  of  ship's  officers  had  the  man  on  his  feet 
and  were  half  dragging  him,  half  carrying  him  to 
the  gangplank.  It  was  not  exactly  an  agreeable 
spectacle  with  which  to  regale  fastidious  passengers 
on  sailing-day,  and  the  ship's  officers  would  have 
gladly  avoided  it.  But  the  refractory  stoker  was 
necessary  to  the  speed  of  the  vessel,  and  there  was 
no  way  of  getting  him  aboard  except  by  the  main 
gangway.  It  was  late.  The  steamer  would  pull  out 
any  moment,  and  the  other  gangways  had  been  al* 
ready  pulled  in. 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Mrs.  Stuart  offered  to  interpret  the  sailor's 
speech : 

"He  says  that  one  of  the  sailors  has  been  over- 
come by  the  heat  and  fallen  on  the  dock  in  a 
faint." 

"Not  exactly,  miss,"  grinned  the  man,  with  an- 
other tug  of  his  cap.  "  'Ees  not  the  kind  wot  faints. 
'Ees  puttin'  up  a  fight.  'Ees  a  fighter,  is  Handsome 
Jack." 

Grace  turned  in  bewilderment  to  her  father,  who 
had  just  returned  on  board. 

"Handsome  Jack!"  she  echoed.  "What  does  he 
mean  ?" 

"It's  only  a  deserter,"  explained  Mr.  Harmon. 
"A  fireman  who  attempted  to  get  away  before  the 
ship  sailed.  The  officers  found  him  in  a  drinking- 
shop  and  brought  him  here." 

"I  don't  blame  the  poor  beggar  for  trying  to  de- 
sert," said  the  Honorable  Percy  Fitzhugh,  who  had 
just  come  up  from  below-stairs.  "It's  jolly  awful  in 
that  stoke-hold,  don'tcher  know?  Ever  been  down 
in  the  stoke-hold,  Miss  Harmon  ?  No  ?  I'll  take  you 
down  some  day — eh,  what?  I  don't  see  how 

52 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

get  men  to  do  such  work.  I'd  rather  commit  suicide, 
by  Jove!" 

"Yes,  it  is  terrible  work,"  said  Mr.  Harmon. 
"They  take  to  it  only  when  desperate  and  forced  by 
circumstances.  It  is  well  known  that  murderers  and 
criminals  of  every  description  take  to  stoking  when 
they  wish  to  lie  low.  They  know  the  police  will 
never  look  for  them  in  the  stoke-hold,  on  the  theory 
that  they  are  getting  punishment  enough." 

"How  dreadful!"  yawned  Grace,  as  she  watched 
with  languid  interest  the  commotion  on  the  shore. 
Presently  she  asked :  "Can  they  make  him  go  back 
to  work  in  the  stoke-hold  whether  he  likes  or  not  ?" 

"Certainly,"  replied  her  father.  "This  is  an  Eng- 
lish ship.  He  probably  signed  articles  in  Liverpool. 
Under  British  maritime  law,  any  member  of  the 
crew  deserting  ship  in  a  foreign  port  can  be  arrested. 
That's  what,  in  sailor  parlance,  is  called  'a  pier- 
head jump.'  You  see,  a  big  vessel  like  this  must 
have  its  full  complement  of  stokers,  otherwise  she 
can't  get  up  enough  steam,  and  the  record  suffers. 
That's  why  they  take  the  trouble  to  go  after  desert- 
ers. They  say  that  this  fellow  deserves  no  sym- 

53 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

pathy.  He's  a  good-for-nothing,  brutal,  violent  fel- 
low. Here  he  comes  now." 

"I'd  like  to  see  him!"  exclaimed  Grace,  pushing 
forward  to  get  a  closer  view  of  the  group  of  men  as 
they  came  struggling  up  the  gangplank. 

"Oh,  Grace,  how  can  you  look  at  such  horrid 
sights?"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Stuart,  fanning  herself 
nervously  and  averting  her  face. 

The  prisoner  by  this  time  was  nearly  exhausted, 
and  presented  a  sorry  sight.  His  grease-stained 
clothes  were  torn  to  rags,  his  hair  was  disheveled, 
blood  flowed  freely  from  a  cut  on  his  cheek,  making 
all  the  more  striking  the  contrast  with  his  white,  set 
face  and  its  grim,  hopeless  expression. 

Armitage  knew  he  was  beaten.  His  strength 
and  determination  had  availed  him  nothing,  yet  he 
was  still  full  of  fight.  It  was  all  they  could  do  to 
drag  him  on  board  inch  by  inch.  As  they  reached 
the  deck,  and  he  realized  that  once  more  the  ship 
had  enslaved  him,  a  hoarse  cry  of  despair  escaped 
his  lips.  With  a  last  superhuman  effort,  he  shook 
himself  free.  One  of  his  captors  was  hurled  to  the 
left,  the  other  sent  flying  to  the  right.  His  fists  shot 

54 


IT  WAS  ALL  THEY   COULD  DO  TO  DRAG   HIM  ON   BOARD. 


Page  54. 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

out,  and  a  third  officer  fell  like  a  log.  For  a  moment 
he  was  free,  and,  surprised  at  his  success,  he  stood 
triumphant  over  their  prostrate  forms,  just  as  a 
gladiator,  doomed  to  die,  might  tower  for  a  few 
brief  seconds  above  his  worsted  foes.  His  fists 
clenched,  his  shapely  head  thrown  back,  every  muscle 
taut,  his  eyes  flashing,  chest  heaving,  he  resembled 
a  classic  hero  battling  with  pigmies. 

"Isn't  he  handsome!"  exclaimed  Grace. 

"Aye,  miss,"  grinned  the  voluble  sailor.  "That's 
wot  we  call  'im — Handsome  Jack.  Sometimes  it's 
Gentleman  Jack,  cause  of  'is  fine  manners ;  but  'ees 
only  a  stoker,  just  the  same." 

The  officers  regained  their  feet  and  again  sprang 
at  their  prisoner.  The  passengers  fell  back  alarmed. 

"Come  here,  Grace!"  cried  Mr.  Harmon  uneasi- 
ly. "You'll  get  hurt." 

But  there  was  no  danger.  More  officers  and  sail- 
ors ran  quickly  up,  and  confronted  by  such  re-en- 
forcements, the  fireman  stood  no  chance.  Before  he 
had  time  to  take  advantage  of  his  temporary  victory, 
he  was  again  overpowered  and  dragged  without 
further  ado  in  the  direction  of  the  forecastle.  Grace 

55 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

shrank  back  as  he  was  taken  past,  but  she  could  not 
help  seeing  his  wild,  staring  eyes  and  white  face  with 
its  expression  of  despair.  As  he  disappeared,  the 
last  gong  sounded,  every  visitor  hurried  ashore,  the 
siren  started  its  deep-toned  blasts  as  warning  that 
the  leviathan  was  getting  under  weigh. 

"I  wish  it  hadn't  happened,"  said  Grace,  as  she 
kissed  her  hand  in  adieu  to  her  father,  who  stood  on 
the  dock  watching  the  vessel  go  out. 

"It's  made  me  positively  ill,"  complained  Mrs. 
Stuart,  busy  with  her  smelling-salts. 

Long  after  New  York's  sky-scrapers  had  faded 
from  view  and  the  land  was  only  a  dim  line  on  the 
horizon,  Grace  was  still  haunted  by  that  white,  set 
$ace,  with  its  expression  of  utter  despair. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  Indian  Ocean,  a  vast  expanse  of  tossing 
blue  water,  its  heaving  bosom  still  agitated 
by  the  expiring  gale,  glorious  in  the  outburst 
of  sunshine  that  followed  the  storm,  stretched  away 
to  every  point  of  the  compass.  As  far  as  the  eye 
could  carry,  away  to  where  the  breaking  clouds 
touched  the  fast-disappearing  land  line  of  mysterious 
Asia,  the  boisterous  white-capped  seas  scattered 
showers  of  prisms  and  spray.  Rolling  and  tumbling, 
their  lofty  crests  flecked  with  fleecy  foam,  the  end- 
less waves  advanced  majestically,  with  rhythmical 
motion  and  the  stateliness  and  precision  of  trained 
battalions,  all  scurrying  in  one  direction,  urged  on 
by  the  whip  of  the  southwesterly  gale.  The  tempest 
had  abated,  the  lowering  clouds  were  rapidly  dis- 
persing, once  more  Nature  was  smiling  and  serene, 
diffusing  the  beauty  and  gladness  of  life  through 
water  and  sky.  Graceful,  white-winged  sea-birds 
uttered  shrill  cries  of  delight  as  they  circled  in  the 
air,  gorgeously  colored  flying  fish  leaped  joyously 

57 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

from  the  dancing  waters,  which  flashed  like  jewels 
in  the  blinding  sunlight.  The  world  was  at  its 
brightest  and  fairest,  full  of  movement  and  color. 
The  breeze  was  caressing  and  balmy,  and  as  the 
Atlanta,  now  three  weeks  from  home,  plunged  her 
way  resistlessly  Eastward,  the  great  liner  was  sonor- 
ous with  the  music  of  wind  and  sea. 

Thus  far  the  voyage  had  hardly  been  all  that 
could  be  desired  as  regards  weather.  January  is 
seldom  a  good  month  for  the  Atlantic,  and  this  year 
the  crossing  was  nastier  than  usual.  The  Atlanta 
had  no  sooner  cleared  the  Banks  than  it  began  to 
blow  great  guns.  Gale  followed  gale  with  tropical 
downpours  of  rain,  the  wind  blowing  from  every 
quarter  at  once,  piling  up  mountainous  combers  that 
every  now  and  again  broke  over  the  bridge,  forty 
feet  above  the  water.  The  tremendous  seas  crashed 
aboard  with  a  thunderous  roar,  frightening  the  more 
timid  among  the  passengers,  smashing  life-boats  and 
ventilators,  sweeping  the  decks  from  bow  to  stern 
with  avalanches  of  green  water.  Skylights  were 
shattered,  bridge  stanchions  bent  and  twisted,  but 
otherwise  there  was  no  damage.  The  big  ship 

58 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

steamed  true  on  her  course,  haughtily  indifferent  to 
the  capricious  ocean's  moods,  staunch  as  a  rock,  and 
quite  as  steady  as  any  railroad-train  moving  at  full 
speed. 

The  rough  weather  had  the  natural  effect  of  con- 
fining most  of  the  women  folk  to  their  staterooms, 
and  as  the  men  also  kept  to  themselves,  preferring 
bridge  and  poker  in  the  smoking-room  to  the  wet 
decks,  there  was  not  much  opportunity  for  social 
amenities. 

Owing  to  the  high  seas,  no  attempt  was  made  to 
land  at  Madeira,  and  there  was  no  little  grumbling 
because  the  vagaries  of  the  elements  made  it  impos- 
sible to  visit  Funchal,  the  Pico  Ruivo,  Ponta  Del- 
gada,  and  other  picturesque  places  of  perennial  ver- 
dure and  flowers.  The  storm  gradually  abated,  but 
it  was  not  until  the  steamer  entered  the  smoother 
waters  of  the  Mediterranean  that  there  was  the 
slightest  pretense  at  dress  or  any  attempt  made  to 
put  in  regular  appearances  at  dinner.  However,  the 
improvement  in  the  weather  and  the  close  proximity 
of  land,  with  the  cheering  prospect  of  going  ashore, 
brought  about  a  quick  change  in  everybody's  humor. 

59 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

The  passengers'  spirits  rose  with  the  barometer. 
Fine  toilettes  made  their  appearance  on  deck,  the 
usual  little  steamer-chair  cliques  were  speedily 
formed,  and  every  one  now  started  in  to  enjoy  them- 
selves as  if  the  voyage  had  only  just  begun. 

They  landed  gleefully  in  tenders,  some  to  inspect 
the  wonders  of  England's  impregnable  fortress,  oth- 
ers to  visit  Spanishtown;  they  crowded  to  the  rail 
as  the  ship  steamed  slowly  past  the  enchanted  island 
of  Capri,  so  dear  to  the  archeologist,  and  in  the  Bay 
of  Naples  they  gazed  in  awe  upon  frowning  Ve- 
suvius, still  smoking  and  rumbling  after  a  disastrous 
eruption  that  had  cost  hundreds  of  lives.  Sheep- 
like,  after  the  manner  of  tourists,  they  hurried 
breathlessly  through  the  attractions  Naples  had  to 
offer,  and  then,  skirting  classic  Scylla  and  Charyb- 
dis,  they  steamed  on  to  the  land  of  the  Pharaohs, 
where  a  complete  change  of  scene  awaited  them. 

So  far,  Grace  had  kept  much  to  herself.  She  was 
not  particularly  interested  in  anybody  on  board,  and 
she  found  it  a  welcome  novelty,  after  her  recent 
strenuous  social  activities,  to  be  able  to  enjoy  a  few 
hours  of  absolute  rest.  What  with  unpacking,  writ- 

60 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

ing  letters  home,  and  looking  after  Mrs.  Stuart, 
who,  almost  from  the  start,  had  been  completely 
prostrated  with  seasickness,  she  had  found  the  time 
slip  by  rapidly  and  agreeably  enough  without  having 
to  seek  diversion  outside  her  immediate  little  circle. 
Her  chaperon's  indisposition  furnished  her  with  an 
admirable  excuse  for  remaining  in  seclusion,  and  if 
another  were  needed,  she  had  it  in  the  inclemency  of 
the  weather.  While  she  herself  was  not  distressed 
by  the  rolling  and  pitching,  the  unusual  motion  did 
not  add  to  her  comfort.  She  preferred  to  stay  in  the 
privacy  of  her  luxurious  quarters,  which  were  the 
object  of  the  envy  and  curiosity  of  every  other  wom- 
an on  board. 

Mr.  Harmon  had  spared  no  expense  to  secure  for 
his  daughter  the  best  on  the  ship  that  money  could 
buy.  Grace  occupied  the  "royal"  suite,  a  series  of 
sumptuously  furnished  and  richly  decorated  rooms, 
entirely  shut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  ship,  thus  en- 
suring complete  privacy,  comprising  bedroom,  par- 
lor, dining-room,  with  piano,  telephone,  library,  etc. 
With  her  own  maids  to  wait  on  her  and  all  meals 
served  privately,  there  was  no  necessity  to  leave  her 

61 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

rooms  unless  she  wished  to,  and  if  she  chose  to 
breathe  the  invigorating  sea  air  there  was  no  one 
to  see  her  walk  on  the  deserted  lower  promenade- 
deck  on  which  her  suite  directly  opened. 

She  had  not  gone  ashore  with  the  other  passen- 
gers when  the  steamer  stopped  at  Gibraltar  and 
Naples.  Mrs.  Stuart  was  still  indisposed,  and  she 
refused  to  leave  her,  but  when  the  Atlanta  reached 
Cairo,  her  chaperon  was  feeling  better,  and  they 
both  landed  to  see  the  sights.  Mrs.  Stuart  had  vis- 
ited Egypt  before,  but  to  Grace  it  was  like  a  glimpse 
of  grand-opera  land,  a  scene  from  "Aida."  The 
waving  palm-trees,  the  queer  Oriental  dwellings,  the 
wonderful  blue  sky  blazing  on  the  peaceful  desert, 
with  its  endless  miles  of  burning  sands,  its  beautiful 
oases,  its  camels  and  picturesquely  costumed  natives 
— all  this  made  up  a  picture  of  delightful  novelty 
for  the  young  girl  fresh  from  prosaic  New  York. 
She  gazed  wondering  at  the  blue-turbaned  Copts, 
they  laughed  merrily  at  the  Fellahin  in  their  blue 
skirts  and  stared  at  the  yellow-turbaned  Jews,  fierce- 
looking  Bedouins  and  black  Nubians.  At  the  cost 
*tf  a  few  piastres  but  much  muscular  exertion,  they 

62 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

were  dragged  up  the  face  oi  the  mighty  pyramids, 
and  with  varying  eriiotioris  they  contemplated  tfee 
time-eaten  features  of  the  inscrutable  Sphinx. 

The  two  women*  derived  much  enjoyment  from 
their  fittle  jaturrts.  Sometimes  they  were  escorted 
by  Mr.  Fitzhugh,  who,  despairing  6f  making-  any 
headway  with  Mrs.  Phelps  now  that  his  detested 
German  rival,  Count  von  Hatzfefd,  had  contrived  to 
monopolize  the  widow,  had  begun  to  dance  attend- 
ance upon  Grace.  H6  knew  she  had  moftey  rft  her 
own  right,  and  his  month  watered  at  the  magnitude 
of  her  expectation's.  There  seemed  no  reasofc  why 
the  Harmon  millions  should  not  be  as  tiseftflly  em- 
ployed in  regifding  the  diJapidaied  Fitzhugfe  coat^ol- 
arrris  as  those  of  the  late  Mr.  Phelps.  But  h«  did 
not  make  nweh  progress,  and  he  had  a  vague  pre- 
monition that  he  was  not  the  kind  of  chap  to  appeal 
to  this  cold,  prottd  beauty.  Discreet  conversation® 
on  the  subject  with  Mrs.  Sttiart  werit  fair"  to  discour- 
age him  altogetfie?. 

"Grace  does  not  expect  to  love  the  man  sfee  wMl 
marry,  so  her  utter*  indifference1  does  no«  reflect  her 
feelings  to  you  rft  tfttf  leas^,"  s^id  that 

63 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

student  of  modern  femininity.  This  statement  was 
not  exactly  true,  but  it  served  the  purpose  of  the 
moment.  "Even  if  she  considered  you  a  desirable 
match,"  she  went  on,  "she  would  not  be  any  more 
unbending.  That  indifferent,  independent  manner 
is  her  chief  charm.  It  is  the  stateliness  of  the  lily. 
Grace  might  marry  you,  but  she  would  not  love  you. 
She  is  too  much  up  to  date  to  believe  there  is  any 
such  thing  as  love.  Self-interest  governs  the  world 
to-day — not  love,  which,  after  all,  is  only  a  primi- 
tive, vulgar  emotion.  Girls  who  want  to  marry  well 
understand  this  thoroughly.  Love  and  lovers  are 
very  delightful  in  fiction,  but  no  sensible  girl  to-day 
takes  them  into  account  when  planning  her  future 
welfare.  When  Grace  does  change  her  name,  it  will 
be  to  take  that  of  one  of  the  proudest  families  in  Eu- 
rope. Surely  you  know  that  she's  already  as  good 
as  engaged  to  Prince  Sergius  of  Eurasia !  As  far  as 
titles  are  concerned,  that's  going  some !" 

"But  I  may  be  a  peer  one  day,"  protested  Mr. 
Fitzhugh. 

"You  may  be,  but  you're  not,"  retorted  Mrs. 
Stuart.  "Your  father,  the  earl,  is  still  alive,  and 

64 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

your  elder  brother  is  aggressively  healthy.  Ameri- 
can girls  do  not  deal  in  futures." 

The  Englishman  took  the  hint,  and,  profiting  by 
a  temporary  indisposition  of  Count  von  Hatzfeld,  re- 
turned to  the  siege  of  the  fascinating  Mrs.  Phelps, 
whose  millions  were  nearly  as  many  and  aspirations 
not  quite  as  high  as  those  of  Miss  Grace  Harmon. 

The  steamer  stayed  in  port  over  a  week,  much  to 
the  delight  of  the  passengers,  who  enjoyed  the  holi- 
day ashore  hugely  after  having  been  cooped  up  so 
long  aboard.  The  weather  continued  ideal,  and 
every  one  took  advantage  of  it  to  see  everything  that 
was  worth  seeing. 

The  more  enterprising  passengers  undertook  little 
side  excursions  up  the  historic  Nile;  others  roamed 
through  the  native  bazaars,  buying  at  exorbitant 
prices  a  vast  quantity  of  things  for  which  they  had 
no  possible  use ;  others  drove  to  the  tomb  of  Mehe- 
met  Ali,  or  to  the  viceroys'  palace,  keeping  up  the 
sightseeing  day  and  night,  until  all  were  so  weary 
that  they  were  glad  when  the  Atlanta  once  more 
weighed  anchor  and  proceeded  down  the  Red  Sea 
and  so  into  the  Indian  Ocean,  en  route  for  Bombay. 

65 


CHAPTER  IV, 

AS  sfie^sat  on  the  deck,  reclining  indolently  in 
>  her  steamer-chair,  propped  up  with  soft 
cushions,  gazing  dreamily  on  the  splendid 
panorama  that  unfolded  slowly  before  her — the  end- 
less procession  of  majestic,  foam-tipped  waves, 
fleecy  clouds  drifting  lazily  in  a  sky  of  turquoise 
blue,  the  sails-  of  a  distant  vessel  whitened  by  the 
sun — Grace  felt  exuberant  with  the  joy  of  life. 

The  latest  novel  was  on  her  lap,  yet  she  made  no 
attempt  to  read.  Mrs;  Stuart;  stretched  out  on.  a 
chair  alongside,  had  vainly  endeavored  to  engage 
her  in  conversation,  But  she  did  not  care  to  talk, 
and  she  found1  it  impossible  to  center  her  attention 
on  a  book,  preferring  to  just  lay  still,  her  eyes  semi- 
closed^  rocked  gently  by  the  steamer's  gradual  mo- 
tion, her  senses  gently  thrilled  by  the  sensuous 
sounds  of  ship  and  sea. 

The  promenade-deck  presented  the  picture  of  com- 
fort and  peace  usually  to  be  seen,  any  fine  morning 


HY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

'©n  a  liner  in  midocean— the  passengers  ofboth  seases 
laid  iOT*t  in  *ows,  mummyllke,  on  steamer^chasTs, 
each  covered  with  a  rug  different  from  his  neigh- 
bor's and  erf  bizarre  'design  and  color,  some  reading, 
some  'skepi-og,  some  conversing  in  stfodued  tottes, 
some  sipping  cups  of  "bouillon  tort-ought  on  trays  by 
nimfble  -stewards ;  the  decks  scrubbed  an  k-nmactrbte 
white,  the  brasses  -highly  polished;  a  "neatly  uni- 
formed quartermaster  standing  at  a  gangway,  pa- 
tiently spflicing  a  rope;  two  officers  on  tfie  bridge 
sweeping  tfoe  horizon  witfe  their  glasses  br  pacing 
up  and  down  with  monotonous  precision.  Witfe  no 
noises  to  irritate  the  ear>  a  sea  voyage  has  no  equal 
as  a  rest  ctire.  One  heard  nothing  but  the  put-ring 
of  the  wind,  the  gentle  flapping  of  Canvas,  the  splash 
of  the  waves,  the  regular  throb  of  the  ship's  pro- 
peller. Conditions  were  ideal  for  day-dreams,  and 
Grace  was  thinking, 

As  "she  idly  watched  thfc  foamihg  water  rush  past 
the  rail  she  thought  how  pleasantly  fate  had  planned 
her  life.  She  might  have  been  born  poor  and  com- 
pelled to  work  in  a  store  for  miserable  wages,  stand- 
ing on  her  feet  behind  a  counter  ten  long  and  weary 

67 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

hours  a  day,  forbidden  to  sit  down  on  pain  of  dis- 
missal, bullied  by  arrogant  employers,  insulted  by 
inconsiderate  customers.  This  she  knew  was  the  lot 
of  thousands  of  girls  whose  pale,  tired  faces  had  fre- 
quently aroused  her  sympathy  when  shopping.  She 
belonged  to  the  small,  lucky  minority — the  ruling 
class — which  by  the  power  of  its  great  wealth  is  able 
to  enslave  nine-tenths  of  the  human  race.  The 
world,  she  ruminated,  was  full  of  unfortunates 
whose  only  fault  was  that  they  were  born  poor. 
Her  mind  reverted  to  the  handsome  stoker  whom 
they  had  dragged  on  board  with  such  little  ceremony 
the  day  the  ship  sailed  from  New  York.  She  won- 
dered what  his  life  had  been  to  force  him  to  take 
to  such  an  occupation,  and  what  had  become  of  him. 
Perhaps  at  that  very  moment,  while  she  sat  there 
surrounded  by  every  luxury,  he  was  suffering  the 
agonies  of  the  damned.  She  reproached  herself  for 
not  making  inquiries  after  him.  When  she  next  saw 
the  captain  she  would  certainly  do  so. 

How  different  was  her  own  life!  Sailing  along 
on  this  splendid  ship,  with  perfect  weather  and  ideal 
surroundings,  the  world  seemed  to  exist  only  to 

68 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

afford  her  pleasure.  If  the  sun  shone  brightly,  it 
was  only  to  give  her  joy ;  if  the  soft  winds  blew,  it 
was  only  to  caress  her  cheek.  It  seemed  unjust. 
Things  were  not  equal.  At  times  she  was  sorry 
that  her  father  was  so  rich.  Had  he  been  poor,  she 
would  have  had  an  incentive  to  work  hard  and  do 
something.  Although  she  had  everything  she  de- 
sired, she  was  not  really  happy.  She  felt  there  was 
something  wanting,  and  she  thought  it  was  because 
her  life  lacked  a  definite  aim.  Other  girls  did  things 
— they  painted  pictures,  wrote  books,  went  on  the 
stage.  If  her  father  became  bankrupt  to-morrow, 
where  would  she  be?  A  perfectly  useless  member 
of  society,  ornamental,  possibly,  but  quite  useless. 
Only  two  alternatives  would  be  open  to  her — either 
to  seek  some  humble  employment  or  throw  herself 
in  the  arms  of  a  rich  man.  She  would  not  be  the 
first  victim  of  the  plutocracy  which  closes  the  doors 
of  the  liberal  professions  to  its  daughters,  only  to 
throw  them,  in  the  hour  of  adversity,  into  the  pal- 
sied arms  of  the  roue  and  the  voluptuary. 

Like  most  American  girls,  Grace  had  little  to 
learn  in  regard  to  life's  fundamentals.     She  had 

69 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

\  • 

read  all  the  decadent  novelists,  from  D'Anmmzk)  to 
Eleanor  Glyn,  and  the  daily  newspapers,  coupled 
with  whispered  conversations  over  five-o'clock  teas, 
had  speedily  shattered  what  other  illusions  had  been 
left  over  from  her  school-days.  The  low  moral 
Standard  of  the  set  in  which  she  moved  had  made 
her  synical  in  her  attitude  toward  the  men  who 
courted  her.  She  had  a  horror  of  fortune-hunters, 
and  most  of  the  men  who  had  paid  her  attention, 
Rrince  Sergius  and  the  rest,  she  suspected  of  being 
after  her  money.  Yet  she  must  marry  some  day. 
She  must  find  a  husband,  even  if  she  were  not  to 
love  him.  A  married  woman  is  able  to  take  a  place 
in  society  that  is  denied  the  single  woman.  Marry 
she  must,  but  whom?  The  men  she  knew  either 
bored  her  or  disgusted  her.  He  need  not  be  a  rich 
man,  for  she  had  enough  for  both,  yet  if  a  poor  man 
presented  himself,  she  would  certainly  put  him  in 
the  fortune-hunting  class.  As  she  had  told  her 
friend,  Mrs.  Stuart,  a  man  with  a  proud  title  would 
suit  her  best.  There  would  be  no  question  of  love, 
of  course,  only  self-interest  on  both  sides.  He  would 
furnish  the  coronet,  she  the  dollars.  It  would  be 

70 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

the  moriage  de  cowuenance,  with  its  hypocrisies,  its 
lies,  its  miseries. 

She  wondered  if  her  attitude  toward  life  were 
wrong1,  if  really  there  were  not  a  man  somewhere 
whom  a  woman  could  respect  and  admire  for  his 
strength,  his  bravery,  his  nobility  of  character. 
The  old-fashioned  authors — the  Dumas,  the  Scotts, 
the  Bulwer  Lyttons,  the  Elliots — presented  such 
men  as  their  heroes.  Were  there  no  such  men  left 
in  the  world  to-day?  Or  were  the  writers  of  mod- 
ern fiction  right  when  they  depicted  the  men  of  to- 
day as  fortune-hunters,  egotistical  coxcombs,  con- 
scienceless libertines,  deliberate  destroyers  of 
women's  virtue?  Cynical  as  the  reading  of  un- 
wholesome books  and  witnessing  salacious  plays  had 
made  her,  Grace  had  still  a  little  of  the  romantic 
left  in  her.  She  was  still  healthy-minded  enough 
to  find  romance  more  satisfying  than  the  vulgar 
realism  of  the  modern  risque  novel.  And  as  she 
lay  there  in  her  chair,  basking  in  the  warm  sunshine, 
her  eyes  half  closed,  she  abandoned  herself  momen- 
tarily to  the  sensuousness  of  the  moment. 

In  her  imagination  gradually  took  form  the  ideal 
71 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

hero  her  heart  craved  for.  She  was  resting  on  a 
country  road,  and  a  man  was  approaching.  He  was 
tall,  with  dark,  wavy  hair  and  smooth  face,  and  the 
clean-cut  features  of  a  Greek  god.  He  knew  she 
was  rich,  but  he  cared  not,  for  he  despised  mere 
wealth,  and  he  was  about  to  pass  by  unheeding, 
when  he  chanced  to  notice  her  face,  which  pleased 
his  sense  of  beauty.  He  stopped  wondering,  and, 
chatting  with  her,  marveled  at  the  liquid  splendor 
of  her  eyes.  This  was  the  woman  he  had  sought, 
the  woman  for  whom  he  would  toil  and  fight.  He 
took  her  hand,  and  at  his  touch  her  heart  leaped 
ecstatically.  A  strange  thrill  stirred  her  as  he  gazed 
hungrily  into  her  eyes  and  gently  drew  her  to  him. 
Timidly  she  yielded  to  his  ardent  embrace,  and  as 
he  clasped  her  soft  form  roughly  to  his  strong 
breast  and  his  warm  lips  met  hers  in  a  deep,  linger- 
ing kiss  that  seemed  to  aspire  her  very  soul,  a  sen- 
sation she  had  never  known  before  invaded  her  en- 
tire being.  She  felt  as  though  she  would  swoon. 

"Aren't  you  getting  hungry,  Grace?  Whatever 
are  you  so  engrossed  about  ?"  said  Mrs.  Stuart  petu- 
lantly. 

72 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

The  interruption  was  so  sudden  and  abrupt  that 
Grace  was  startled,  and  it  was  with  some  confusion 
that  she  replied: 

"Just  thinking — that's  all !  This  weather  actually 
makes  one  foolish." 

"Good  morning-,  ladies!" 

A  shadow  suddenly  shut  out  the  glare  of  the  sun. 
Grace  and  Mrs.  Stuart  looked  up.  It  was  Captain 
Summers,  who  was  walking  the  deck  with  Professor 
Hanson.  The  Atlanta's  commander  was  a  typical 
sea-dog,  big,  broad-shouldered,  with  a  deep  bass 
voice  and  a  face  tanned  by  exposure  to  all  sorts  of 
weather.  Contrasted  with  Ptofessor  Hanson,  a 
nervous  little  man,  with  a  bald,  domelike  cranium, 
he  looked  like  a  giant.  Like  most  Englishmen,  hi 
was  frigid  in  manner  and  not  too  amiable  in  his 
intercourse  with  the  passengers.  But  Grace,  Mrs. 
Stuart,  and  the  professor  happened  to  sit  at  his 
table,  which  made  a  difference.  For  them  he  con- 
descended to  unbend.  He  was  not  blind  to  the  fact 
that  Grace  was  an  uncommonly  good-looking  girl, 
and  Mrs.  Stuart  amused  him.  Touching  his  cap,  he 
sank  into  the  empty  seat  on  the  other  side  of  Grace, 

73 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

While   Professor   Hanson  drew  -up  another  chair. 

"How  long  can  we  expect  this  glorious  weather 
to  last,  captain?"  asked  Mrs.  Stuart,  greeting  the 
commander's  salute  witfo  a  gracious  smile. 

"It's  hard  to  say,"  he  replied  pleasantly,  after  a 
quick  glance  at  the  sky.  "The  barometer's  steady 
enough  now,  but  in  these  latitudes  one  may  expect 
anything  at  any  time.  The  Indian  Ocean  is  as  ca- 
pricious in  its  moods  as  a  woman.  I've  seen  it  as 
quiet  as  this  at  noon,  yet  by  nightf  all  we'd  run  into 
such  a  storm  that  you'd  think  the  ship  would  foe 
blown  out  of  the  water." 

''Oh,  dear!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Stuart,  with  a  little 
nervous  laugh.  "I  hope  we  shan't  have  any  such 
experience.  I'd  die  of  flight." 

"Don't  worry,  m'm,"  replied  the  captain  reas- 
suringly. "There's  no  sign  of  a  change."  Gal- 
lantly he  added:  "I  wouldn't  hear  of  you  ladies 
being  put  to  the  slightest  inconvenience.  I'll  see 
that  this  weather  continues  until  we  arrive  at  Bom- 
bay." 

"When  do  we  get  in,  captain  ?"  demanded  Grace 
languidly. 

24 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"You're  not  getting  tired  of  us,  I  hope,"  replied 
the  commander,  with  a  laugh. 

"Qk,  no.  I  only  want  to  know  when  I  must  begin 
to  pack  my  trunks.  You  know,  we're  going  on  a 
motor  tour  inland." 

"Next  Saturday  we  shall  have  the  captain's  din- 
ner, with  the  dance  afterward,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Stuart.  "So- 1  suppose  they  expect  to  land  us  Mon- 
day." 

"How  about  that,  captain?"  demanded  the  pro- 
fessor. 

Captain  Summers  looked  at  all  three  in  an;  amused 
sort  of  way,  and  for  a  moment  made  no  answer. 
Then'  gruffly  he  said: 

"A  sailor  of  experience  never  ventures  ta  make 
predictions.  We  are  due  ajt  Bombay  next  Monday. 
If  all  goes  well,  I  expect  to  land  my  passengers  on 
that  day.  As  Mrs,,  Stuart  says,  we  shall  entertain 
you  at  dinner  and  give  you  a  dance  on>  deck  next 
Saturday,  in  honor  of  our  arrival.  Btat  if  anything1 
delays  us,  don't  be  disappointed*.  We  might  mm  on 
a  rock  and  go  to  the  bottom.  Or  we  might  break 
our  propellers.  If  -that  happened;  we  should  be  com- 

75 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

pletely  helpless.  We  might  drift  out  of  our  course 
for  weeks  before  help  could  reach  us." 

"Oh,  wouldn't  that  be  awful !"  cried  Mrs.  Stuart. 

"How  could  we  summon  assistance  ?"  asked  Grace 
eagerly. 

"By  wireless,  of  course,"  broke  in  the  professor, 
who  assumed  the  air  of  superior  knowledge  on  every 
subject  broached.  "The  invention  of  wireless  teleg- 
raphy has  practically  reduced  the  perils  of  seagoing 
to  a  negligible  minimum." 

"Thank  Heaven,  we've  got  the  wireless !"  gasped 
Mrs.  Stuart.  "I  could  hug  the  man  who  invented 
it — Macaroni — what's  his  name?" 

"You  mean  Marconi,  my  dear  madam,"  inter- 
posed the  professor  solemnly. 

"The  wireless  is  all  right  as  far  as  it  goes,"  said 
the  captain  grimly.  "Certainly  its  invention  is  a 
great  step  forward,  but  two  things  are  essential  for 
its  success  in  a  critical  situation.  Firstly,  it  must  be 
in  working  order.  In  bad  weather  the  aerial  wires 
are  apt  to  be  put  out  of  commission.  Secondly, 
there  must  be  a  Marconi  station  or  receiver  within 
a  few  hundred  miles  of  where  you  happen  to  be. 

76 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

If  these  conditions  are  not  present,  you  might  as  well 
whistle !" 

Mrs.  Stuart  looked  so  depressed  at  this  discour- 
aging opinion  that  Grace  could  not  repress  a  smile. 
Professor  Hanson,  never  sorry  of  an  opportunity  to 
air  his  fund  of  information,  went  on  pompously : 

"Captain,  you  spoke  just  now  of  running  on  a 
rock.  Is  it  not  a  fact  that  in  this  ocean  there  are 
rocks  and  small  islands  not  shown  on  the  nautical 
charts,  and  that  for  this  reason  navigation  in  these 
waters  is  more  dangerous  than  elsewhere?" 

For  all  reply,  the  commander  gave  vent  to  a  loud 
guffaw  and,  with  a  side  glance  at  Mrs.  Stuart, 
winked  slyly  at  Grace. 

"If  we  keep  up  this  kind  of  talk,  Mrs.  Stuart  will 
think  we're  doomed  to  come  to  grief  of  some  kind. 
Let's  be  more  cheerful." 

"Am  I  right  or  wrong,  captain?"  persisted  the 
professor.  "My  information  came  from  a  naval 
man." 

The  commander's  face  became  set  and  stern,  as 
it  usually  did  when  he  was  serious.  Removing  his 
cigar,  he  said  slowly:  i 

77 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

"Your  informant  was  right  For  some  reason  or 
other,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  an  absolutely  ac- 
curate chart  of  the  Indian  Ocean.  They  have  talked 
for  years  of  making  a  new  chart,  but,  so  far,  noth- 
ing has  been  done.  Yet  we  sailors  who  regularly 
navigate  these  waters  know  from  experience  that 
there  are  hereabouts  currents  strong  enough  to  di- 
vert a  vessel  from  her  true  course,  and  a  number  of 
small  islands  no  mention  of  which  is  made  on  the 
existing  charts.  The  Admiralty  and  Lloyds  are  well 
aware  of  the  existence  of  these  dangers  to  naviga- 
tion,, but  yon  all  know  what  red  tape  is-." 

"How  delightfully  romantic!"  cried  Grace,  with 
enthusiasm.  "Unexplored  islands  inhabited  by 
savages  who  never  saw  white  people,  and  who  trade 
in  beads  and  go  naked!" 

"Cannibals,  no  doubt,"  suggested  Mrs.  Stuart, 
with  sun  affected  shudder. 

"Where  are  these  islands?"  inquired  Grace. 

"A  long  way  out  of  our  course,  I  hope,"  laughed 
the  captains.  "Yet  I've  passed  quite  close  to  some  of 
them.  They  seem  quite  deserted.  So-  far  as  we 
could  make  out,  there  is  not  even  animal  life  on 

78 


BY  RIG  PIT  OF  CONQUEST 

them.  But,  being  in  the  direct  steamer  lane  to 
India,  they  constitute  a  menace  to  shipping  that 
should  be  removed." 

"Most  decidedly— most  decidedly  1"  said  the  pro- 
fessor  emphatically. 

Captain  Summers  arose  to  go. 

"It's  very  delightful  chatting  here,"  he  said,  witK 
a  smile ;  "but  I  must  go  up  on  the  bridge  and  attend 
to  my  duties.  Otherwise,  we  may  bump  right  on  to 
one  of  those  islands." 

"By  the  way,  captain,"  said  Grace.  "What  has 
become  of  that  poor  fireman  who  made  such  a  dis- 
turbance the  day  we  sailed  from  New  York?" 

The  captain  frowned. 

"Oh,  he's  down  where  he  (belonga-~shoveling 
coal."  Then  he  added :  "Don't  waste  any  sympathy 
on  him.  He's  about  as  hard  a  character  as  you 
could  find.  Stokers  are  all  troublesome  as  a  class, 
but  this  Armitage  fellow  is  quite  unmanageable.  I 
shall  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  him.  We  had  to  put  him 
on  bread  and  water  the  first  ten  days  out.  It  wasn't 
until  he  was  nearly  dead  from  starvation  that  he 
consented  to  go  to  work." 

79 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"Stoking  down  in  that  pit  in  that  terrific  heat 
must  be  fearful !"  exclaimed  the  professor. 

"Yes,"  growled  the  captain.  "It  is  pretty  bad. 
Most  of  them  don't  mind  it,  though.  They  aren't 
good  for  anything  else.  They're  tough,  coarse- 
fibered  creatures,  scarcely  superior  in  instincts  to  the 
savage.  They'd  think  nothing  of  running  a  knife 
into  you,  and  that  Armitage  chap  is  worse  than  the 
worst  of  them.  We've  had  trouble  with  him  all 
along." 

"Still,  after  all,"  mused  the  professor,  "we 
mustn't  forget  that  it  is  they  who  make  the  ship  go. 
We  couldn't  do  without  them.  Every  man  has  his 
place  in  the  world's  economy." 

"It  must  be  very  interesting  to  see  them  at  work," 
remarked  Grace.  "I'd  like  to  see  what  the  stoke- 
hold looks  like.  Mr.  Fitzhugh  said  he  would  take 
me  down."  Looking  down  the  deck,  she  added : 
"Here  he  comes  now.  I'll  ask  him." 

"There's  no  time  like  the  present,"  said  the  cap- 
tain. "See  Mr.  Wetherbee,  the  chief  engineer. 
He'll  take  you  down." 

"Yes,"  said  the  professor  pedantically.  "The 
80 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

spectacle  will  be  a  good  object  lesson  for  you — a 
pampered  daughter  of  the  plutocracy.  With  a  little 
imagination,  you  can  see  in  the  stoke-hold  social 
conditions  as  they  actually  are  in  the  world  to-day. 
In  the  stokers  you  have  the  laborers,  the  mill-hands, 
the  sweat-shop  workers,  the  common  people  who 
toil  painfully  for  pitiful  wages,  for  their  daily  bread. 
We  others  up  here,  lolling  in  our  luxurious  steamer- 
chairs,  living  on  the  fat  of  the  land — or,  rather,  sea, 
to  be  more  correct — are  the  masters,  the  capitalists. 
It  is  the  slave  system  of  ancient  Rome  under  another 
name,  that's  all.  It's  all  wrong.  Man's  injustice  to 
man  is  the  great  crime  of  the  centuries.  Why  should 
I  be  here  enjoying  every  comfort  and  those  unfortu- 
nate men  down  there  condemned  to  tortures  as  cruel 
as  those  devised  by  the  merciless  Inquisition." 

Captain  Summers  shrugged  his  massive  shoul- 
ders, and,  as  he  turned  to  go,  said  laughingly : 

"Mind  you  don't  talk  that  way  in  the  stoke-hold, 
or  they  might  take  you  at  your  word  and  keep  you 
down  there." 

"No   danger   of   that,    captain,"    laughed   Mrs. 
81 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Stuart,  "The  professor's  only  theorizing,  you 
know.  It  costs  nothing  to  expound  theory.  He  has 
no  idea  of  exchanging  places  with  the  stokers." 

The  commander  guffawed  loudly,  and,  with  a 
parting  salute  to  the  ladies,  turned  on  his  heel  and 
disappeared  up  the  companionway.  At  that  mo- 
ment the  Hon.  Percy  Fitzhugh  came  up,  the  inevi- 
table monocle  in  his  eye. 

"Oh,  I  say,  Miss  Harmon,"  he  began,  with  his 
affected  English  drawl.  "Be  my  partner  at  shuffle- 
board,  eh,  what?" 

Mrs.  Stuart,  irritated  at  an  invitation  which  ig- 
nored her,  answered  for  her  ward: 

"Miss  Harmon  has  more  serious  things  to  attend 
to,  Don't  come  disturbing  us  with  your  idiotic 
games.  We  are  intellectual  here — -talking  socialism, 
cannibals,  wireless,  stoke-holds,  and  such  things.  If 
you  can't  be  intellectual,  keep  away." 

"Mr.  Fitzhugh,"  said  Grace,  laughing,  "you 
promised  to  take  me  down  to  the  stoke-hold.  Sup- 
pose we  all  go  now  ?" 

Mf.  Fitzhugh  beamed.     The  beautiful  one  had 
82 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

actually  deigned  to  ask  him  a  favor.  Overcome 
with  emotion,  he  stuttered  his  reply : 

"Delighted,  of  course.  It'll  be  jolly  good  sport  to 
see  the  beggars  hard  at  work  down  there.  I'll  let 
the  shuffleboard  go  hang.  Come,  we'll  go  and  see 
the  chief  engineer,  eh,  what?" 

He  assisted  Grace  and  Mrs.  Stuart  to  their  feet, 
and,  followed  by  the  professor,  they  all  made  their 
way  to  Mr.  Wetherbee's  cabin. 


CHAPTER  V.  . 

THE  chief  engineer,  a  blunt-spoken  English- 
man, with  bushy  side-whiskers,  was  amia- 
bility itself,  and  readily  consented  to  escort 
his  visitors  down  to  the  region  where  he  was  king. 

"There's  nothing  very  attractive  down  there !"  he 
said,  by  way  of  warning. 

"Oh,  I'm  very  anxious  to  see  the  poor  fellows  at 
the  furnaces.  It  must  be  a  most  interesting  sight," 
exclaimed  Grace,  with  a  flush  of  pleasurable  antici- 
pation. 

"Won't  it  spoil  our  frocks?"  demanded  Mrs. 
Stuart,  apprehensive  of  damage  to  her  white  chiffon 
gown. 

The  engineer  took  the  question  as  almost  a  per- 
sonal insult. 

"Bless  you,  no,  m'm.  It's  as  clean  as  Delmoni- 
co's  kitchen.  We're  proud  to  show  it  for  that  rea- 
son. Of  course,  there's  plenty  of  coal-dust  flying 
down  in  the  stoking-pit,  where  the  firemen  are,  but 
you'll  not  go  near  enough  to  hurt.  Follow  me!" 

84 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

He  led  the  way  through  a  narrow  door  amid- 
ships, on  the  port  side,  and  they  found  themselves 
in  a  steel-lined  gallery,  well  lighted  and  fitted  an  all 
sides  with  steel  ladders,  pipes,  and  valves.  The  hiss- 
ing of  escaping  steam  and  the  roar  of  powerful  ma- 
chinery in  motion  made  any  attempt  at  speaking 
impossible. 

"This  is  the  engine-room,"  shouted  Mr.  Wether- 
bee. 

Looking  down,  they  saw  mighty  arms  of  polished, 
well-greased  steel  rise,  swing  slowly  and  descend 
rapidly  on  the  other  side.  The  huge  rods  of  metal 
ascended  and  fell  again  with  great  rapidity,  with 
a  rhythmical,  irresistible  sweep  that  was  fascinating 
to  watch,  making  at  each  thrust  and  uplift  a  rushing, 
roaring  noise  like  the  simultaneous  blows  of  a  hun- 
dred sledge-hammers. 

"A  man  was  caught  in  there  once,"  shouted  the 
engineer,  so  as  to  make  himself  heard  above  the 
din.  "It  was  just  before  the  ship  sailed.  The  poor 
fellow  noticed  that  the  crank  needed  oil,  and  thought 
he  had  time  to  do  it  before  we  started.  Just  as  he 
was  finishing,  the  signal  'Go  ahead'  came  from  the 

85 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

bridge.  We  didn't  know  he  was  in  the  pit,  and  we 
pulled  the  steam-chest  lever,  The  massive  arm 
rose,  He  Shrieked.  Before  we  could  stop  the  ma- 
chinery, it  dropped  again,  and  he  was  ground  to 
pieces  before  our  eyes." 

Grace  shuddered  while  the  engineer  calmly  went 
on  to  explain  the  particular  use  of  each  part  of  the 
wonderful  mechanism  over  which  he  had  supreme 
control,  speaking  of  each  with  as  much  affection  as 
if  it  were  his  own  offspring. 

"Those  cranks  turn  the  shaft  which  gives  the 
propellers  their  thousand  revolutions  a  minute.  The 
vibration  you  notice  is  caused  by  the  enormous 
steam  pressure.  Two  hundred  pounds  of  steam 
pressing  against  every  square  inch  of  boiler  surface 
represents  power  equal  to  the  strength  of  10,000 
horses."  Patting  the  head  of  the  great  beam  as  it 
rose  to  him,  he  added:  "This  is  the  best  friend 
we've  got — -never  tired,  always  true.  But  for  this 
we  should  not  be  cutting  through  the  water  at  the 
speed  of  twenty  knots  an  hour." 

Turning  to  an  iron  staircase  on  the  left,  he  said : 

"We'll  go  now  to  the  boiler-room  and  see  how 
86 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

we  make  the  steam  that  gives  life  to  the  cylinders." 
Beckoning  them  to  follow,  he  disappeared  down 
a  steep  stairway,  spiral  in  form,  which  reached  from 
the  promenade-deck  down  to  the  very  bottom  of  the 
vessel.  The  engineer  gallantly  extended  his  hand  to 
assist  Grace,  and  Professor  Hanson,  not  quite  sure 
himself  of  his  footing,  made  a  pretense  of  rendering 
similar  service  to  Mrs.  Stuart.  Mr.  Fitehugh 
brought  up  the  rear,  stepping  gingerly.  Down  they 
went,  round  and  round,  threading  their  way  along 
an  amazing  labyrinth  of  valves,  levers,  gauges,  ec- 
centrics, tubes,  and  steam-pipes.  They  were  now 
deep  down  in  the  bowels  of  the  ship,  a  region  with 
a  sickening  smell  of  machine-oil  and  steam.  Down, 
down  they  went,  past  the  coal-bunkers,  following  the 
engineer.  The  stairway  being  only  imperfectly 
lighted  by  electric  bulbs,  they  had  to  tread  carefully. 
It  grew  perceptibly  hotter.  Presently  they  saw 
double  rows  of  boilers  set  sideways.  They  were  in 
the  stoke-hold. 
"Look  out!" 

The  warning  .cry  came  from  Mr.  Wetherbee,  who 
stopped  short  and  held  out  his  arms  to  prevent  the 

87 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

visitors  proceeding  any  farther.  Then  he  shouted : 
"There  are  the  furnaces!  You'd  better  shade  your 
eyes!" 

There  was  a  sudden  glare  which  was  almost  blind- 
ing, a  roar  of  flames  under  forced  draught,  and  a 
wave  of  sickening  heat.  The  air  all  at  once  became 
so  thick  with  flying  particles  of  coal  that  it  was  dif- 
ficult to  breathe.  Choking,  coughing,  Grace  and  her 
companions  clutched  nervously  at  the  slender  guard- 
rail which  alone  interposed  between  the  steel  gal- 
lery where  they  stood  and  the  inferno  of  smell, 
noise,  and  heat  below. 

An  extraordinary  spectacle  presented  itself  to 
their  eyes.  In  the  blackness  underneath,  between 
the  rows  of  boilers,  were  the  stoking-pits,  in  which 
fourteen  fires,  each  raging  at  a  fierce  white  heat, 
glowed  angrily  like  the  red  cavernous  maws  of 
legendary  monsters.  Through  the  open  furnace 
doors  issued  a  blinding  light  that  only  intensified 
the  surrounding  gloom.  Standing  about,  recoiling 
from  the  withering  heat,  could  be  seen  a  dozen  stal- 
wart forms.  Every  now  and  then  they  advanced 
quickly  to  the  furnace,  to  throw  on  fresh  fuel  or  to 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

rake  the  glowing  coal,  and  in  the  vivid  light  they 
were  seen  to  be  human  beings,  but  so  begrimed  and 
terrible  of  aspect  as  to  be  well-nigh  unrecognizable 
as  men.  They  were  entirely  naked  from  the  waist 
up,  and  so  covered  with  coal-dust  from  head  to  heel 
that  they  looked  like  negroes.  Only  the  white  circles 
around  the  bloodshot  eyes  and  their  straight  hair  be- 
trayed the  true  color  of  their  skins.  They  worked 

• 

silently  and  resignedly,  like  men  accursed,  and 
doomed  for  some  sin  committed  to  everlasting  toil 
and  torment.  Mere  machines  of  flesh  and  sinew, 
they  executed  with  the  rapidity  and  expertness  of 
long  practise  certain  mechanical  movements,  their 
toughened  muscles  and  iron  frame  standing  the 
strain  and  heat  with  amazing  endurance,  sweat  liter- 
ally pouring  off  their  faces  and  bodies  in  streams. 
At  moments  the  heat  became  intolerable — the  stoker 
himself  caught  fire.  His  skin  began  to  blister,  his 
hair  started  to  smoke.  He  gave  a  shout,  and  a  com- 
rade quickly  emptied  a  bucket  of  water  over  him, 
throwing  off  a  cloud  of  steam.  Thus  temporarily 
relieved,  he  set  to  his  devilish  task  again.  It  was 
the  hardest  kind  of  labor  known  to  man,  but,  like 

89  « 


BY  RIG  PIT  OF  CONQUEST 

the  ancient  stoics,  the  stokers  gave  no  sign  of  their 
suffering.  They  toiled  uncomplainingly  in  grim  si- 
lence, as  if  resigned  to  accept  this  degraded,  painful 
occupation  as  their  proper  lot  in  life.  They  worked 
on  and  on  until  gradually  even  their  great  strength 
gave  out.  Overcome  by  the  appalling  heat,  suffo- 
cating from  lack  of  fresh  air,  one  by  one  they  were 
forced  to  fall  back  and  give  place  to  fresher 
men. 

The  daintily  gowned,  carefully  groomed  passen- 
gers from  the  first  cabin  watched  them,  fascinated. 
It  was  difficult  for  Grace,  who  had  seen  nothing  but 
plenty  around  her  since  she  came  into  the  world,  to 
understand  that  there  were  human  beings  so  miser- 
ably poor,  so  low  down  in  the  social  scale  that  they 
had  to  earn  their  bread  in  this  way.  The  literalness 
of  the  saying  "making  a  living  by  the  sweat  of  one's 
brow"  dawned  upon  her  for  the  first  time.  She  was 
shocked,  and  then  she  felt  sorry— sorry  that  any  hu- 
man being  should  be  so  degraded,  A  sense  of  guilt 
came  over  her,  as  if  she  realized  that  the  luxuries 
her  class  loved  and  exacted  were  responsible  for  this 
degradation,  this  suffering. 

90 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

She  wondered  where  the  refractory  fireman  was, 
and  presently  she  perceived  him,  emerging  from  the 
gloom,  approaching  the  roaring  furnace,  steel  rod  in 
hand,  to  rake  the  fiery  coal,  covering  his  face  with 
his  unemployed  hand  to  ward  off  the  blistering  heat. 
He  was  easily  recognizable  in  spite  of  his  forbidding, 
ghoulish  aspect,  towering  as  he  did  several  inches 
above  his  comrades.  Built  like  a  Hercules,  he  had  a 
torso  that  would  have  given  joy  to  the  great  Praxi- 
teles himself.  His  lines  were  academic,  the  muscles 
on  his  massive  yet  admirably  molded  shoulders  and 
arms  stood  out  like  whip-cords,  and  as  he  stood  be- 
fore the  open  fire,  working  the  steel  rod  in  and  out, 
one  leg  thrust  forward,  the  rest  of  the  body  thrown 
backward  to  avoid  the  heat,  his  pose  recalled  one  of 
David's  Latin  warriors  about  to  let  fly  a  javelin  at 
the  enemy. 

"By  Jove!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Fitzhugh.  "There's 
the  chap  who  made  such  a  fuss  when  we  sailed." 

"Yes,  that's  the  fellow  I"  said  the  chief  engineer. 
"He's  going  his  'shift'  readily  enough  now,  but 
we've  had  a  hard  time  with  him.  He  had  to  be 
driven  to  work  like  a  dog.  He's  a  surly  brute  and 

9* 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST  / 

always  ready  for  a  fight.     You'd  better  not  attract 
his  attention."  j 

So  far,  the  stokers  had  not  noticed  the  visitors' 
presence,  but  Mr.  Fitzhugh's  exclamation  made 
them  look  up.  One  of  the  firemen  laughed,  and 
said  something  in  an  undertone  to  a  comrade,  where- 
upon the  man  grinned,  and,  turning  to  the  others, 
pointed  to  the  Hon.  Percy,  who,  with  his  monocle, 
his  green  Tyrolian  hat  and  white  spats,  looked  com- 
ical enough  to  excite  derision.  The  jeers  attracted 
the  attention  of  Armitage,  who  dropped  back  from 
the  furnace  he  was  cleaning  out  and  glared  up  at  the 
intruders.  He  clenched  his  fist  and  ground  his  teeth 
as  he  saw  these  perfumed,  pampered  passengers 
watching  them  as  they  might  view  wild  animals  in 
a  cage.  It  made  his  blood  boil  to  see  their  clean 
skins,  their  fine  clothes.  No  doubt,  they  had  not 
done  a  day's  honest  work  in  their  lives.  That  ani- 
mated monkey  with  the  monocle  and  white  spats, 
and  those  dainty  dolls  in  laces  and  jewels,  came 
simply  from  idle  curiosity,  to  gibe  at  their  dirty, 
miserable  appearance,  to  mock  at  their  sufferings. 
The  thought  maddened  him.  In  a  frenzy  of  rage,  he 

92 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

shook  his  fist  in  the  direction  of  the  little  gallery 
where  Grace  and  her  party  stood. 
i     "Get  out  of  here!"  he  shouted  furiously.     "We 
don't  want  you !     This  isn't  a  circus !     Get  out — do 
you  hear?" 

He  stooped  quickly,  and,  picking  up  a  heavy  piece 
of  coal,  lifted  his  arm  as  if  about  to  hurl  it  in  their 
direction.  Grace,  frightened,  recoiled,  and  her  com- 
panions also  shrank  back.  Mr.  Fitzhugh  and  the 
professor  had  already  bolted  up  the  spiral  stairway. 
The  chief  engineer  said  quietly  to  Grace: 

"You'd  better  go.  There's  no  telling  how  he 
might  excite  the  other  men.  I  regret  very  much 
that  you  should  have  been  subjected  to  his  insults. 
He's  half-crazy.  Leave  me  to  deal  with  him!" 

Shaking  his  fist  at  the  fireman,  he  shouted : 

"You'll  pay  for  this,  Armitage.     This  means  an- 
other dose  of  the  'hospital'  for  you !" 
fc  "Go  to  hell!"  cried  the  stoker's  hoarse  voice. 

Grace  and  Mrs  Stuart  were  breathless  when  they 
reached  the  deck,  and  they  gave  a  sigh  of  relief 
when  they  were  able  once  more  to  fill  their  lungs 
witn  fresh  air. 

93 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"What  a  shocking  place !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Stuart, 
examining  her  gown  to  see  if  she  had  sustained  any 
damage. 

"What  a  terrible  man!"  echoed  Grace. 


94 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ALL  day  it  had  been  uncomfortably  hot  and  op- 
pressive.    The  blazing  sun  looked  like  a 
molten  disk  in  a  copper-colored  sky.     The 
horizon  was  veiled  in  a  sort  of  milky  haze.    The  sea 
had  quieted  down  to  a  dead  calm.     There  was  not 
so  much  as  a  ripple  on  the  ocean's  smooth,  oil-like 
surface. 

The  big  liner  was  still  pounding  her  way  toward 
Bombay.  Another  two  days  and  the  passengers 
would  go  ashore.  Saturday  afternoon  had  already 
arrived.  Sailors  were  busy  rigging  canvas  and  put- 
ting up  decorations  for  the  dance  which  was  to  take 
place  that  evening.  In  a  cozy  corner  of  the  prome- 
nade-deck an  animated  group,  which  included  Grace, 
Mrs.  Stuart,  Mrs.  Phelps,  Count  von  Hatzfeld,  and 
Professor  Hanson,  were  taking  tea. 

"I  don't  see  how  we  can  dance  in  this  heat!  I 
think  we'd  better  put  off  the  ball,  don't  you,  count  ?" 
exclaimed  Grace,  appealing  to  Mrs.  Phelps'  aristo- 
cratic admirer. 

95 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Count  Herbert  von  Hatzf  eld  was  the  typical  Teu- 
ton, tall  and  blond,  with  soldierly  bearing.  His 
mustache  had  the  uptwist  dear  to  the  Kaiser.  He 
had  good  teeth,  polished  ways,  and  an  engaging 
smile.  Like  most  Germans,  his  speech  was  stiff  and 
slow,  and  he  sat  bolt  upright,  as  if  he  had  accident- 
ally swallowed  a  poker,  which  made  it  impossible  for 
him  to  unbend. 

Grace's  suggestion  did  not  seem  to  appeal  to  him, 
for,  with  a  hasty  glance  at  Mrs.  Phelps,  who  ap- 
peared engrossed  in  something  Professor  Hanson 
was  saying,  he  replied : 

"Ach — that  is  nothing.  I  like  dancing  with  you 
in  the  heat  better  than  not  dancing  at  all." 

Grace  purposely  ignored  the  compliment.  She 
had  no  desire  to  make  Mrs.  Phelps  jealous;  so, 
hastening  to  draw  the  widow  into  the  conversation, 
she  leaned  over  to  her. 

"What  do  you  think  about  it,  Mrs.  Phelps?  I 
just  told  the  count  that  I  thought  it  too  hot  to  dance 
to-night.  What's  your  opinion?" 

"Oh,  dear,  no,"  laughed  the  widow,  fanning  her- 
self, "Let's  enjoy  ourselves  as  long  as  we  can* 

96 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

This  weather's  nothing  to  what  we  shall  get  in  the 
interior  of  India.  I  wouldn't  miss  the  dance  for 
anything." 

"Mrs.  Stuart,  may  I  trouble  you  for  some  more 
tea?"  asked  Professor  Hanson,  with  his  customary 
exaggerated  politeness. 

"You,  professor,  may  have  anything,"  replied 
Mrs.  Stuart,  with  a  smile  meant  to  be  fascinating. 
Archly  she  added:  "You  know,  I  call  you  my 
walking  encyclopedia.  Just  think  what  you've 
taught  me  on  this  voyage — all  about  ocean  currents, 
the  stars,  wireless  telegraphy.  You  are  a  wonderful 
man." 

The  professor  bowed  and  preened  himself  as  he 
sugared  his  tea. 

"You  flatter  me,  my  dear  madam.  Really,  you 
flatter  me.  It  has  been  an  honor  and  delight  to  talk 
with  so  charming  and  intelligent  a  woman." 

"Do  you  hear  that,  Grace  ?"  laughed  Mrs.  Stuart. 
"The  professor  says  I'm  charming  and  intelligent." 

"Ja  wohl,  it  is  true — it  is  true,"  exclaimed  the 
count  gallantly.  "You  are  very  charming.  The 
herr  professor  vouches  for  your  intelligence  also. 

97 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

He  is  more  competent  than  I  to  pass  on  that  ques- 
tion. But  I  can  certainly  vouch  for  your  being  irre- 
sistibly charming." 

Mrs.  Phelps  frowned.  For  some  reason  she 
seemed  to  regard  Mrs.  Stuart  as  more  dangerous 
than  Grace.  Fanning  herself  vigorously,  she  ex- 
claimed : 

"It  is  hotter  than  I  thought  it  was.  I  think  we're 
in  a  warm  corner.  Count,  suppose  we  take  a  turn 
on  deck." 

'70  wohl — if  you  wish  it,"  responded  the  Ger- 
man, rising  with  native  politeness. 

Somewhat  reluctantly,  Mrs.  Stuart  thought,  he 
joined  Mrs.  Phelps,  and  they  walked  off  briskly  to- 
gether down  the  deck. 

"Now  they're  gone,  you'll  have  to  amuse  us,  pro- 
fessor," laughed  Mrs.  Stuart. 

"I  wish  I  had  some  one  to  fan  me/'  complained 
Grace  languidly. 

"Allow  me,"  exclaimed  the  professor  eagerly. 

Dapper  and  enthusiastic,  he  danced  around,  and, 
drawing  up  a  chair,  took  the  fan  which  Grace  will- 
ingly surrendered.  The  professor  was  not  exactly 


BY  RIG  PIT  OF  CONQUEST 

the  man  of  her  day-dreams,  but  he  was  as  good  as 
any  one  else  to  arrange  the  rugs  around  her  chair 
or  to  pick  up  the  things  she  was  continually  drop- 
ping. No  one  had  seen  the  Hon.  Percy  Fitzhugh 
for  the  last  two  days.  He  had  not  dared  to  show 
his  face  on  deck  since  his  ignominious  flight  from 
the  stoke-hold. 

"Why  is  it  so  sultry,  professor?"  asked  Grace 
wearily. 

The  professor  fanned  her  gently,  taking  mental 
inventory  as  the  gentle  breeze  he  made  stirred  his 
companion's  veil.  Her  aristocratic  features,  her 
transparent,  satinlike  skin,  her  long  silky  lashes 
drooping  on  a  velvety  cheek,  half  concealing  her 
dark,  soul-disturbing  eyes,  the  slender  white  neck  and 
full  bosom  covered  with  dainty  open  laces  partially 
concealing  hidden  charms,  and  an  upturned,  wistful 
mouth,  with  full  red  lips  that  suggested  unholy  de- 
lights— all  this  the  professor  noted,  and  he  turned 
away  his  head  and  sighed.  For  all  his  science,  he 
was,  after  all,  only  a  man.  And,  alas,  he  had  a  wife 
at  home.  Besides,  who  knew  better  than  he — the 
man  of  science — the  futility  of  lifting  one's  eyes  to 

99, 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

the  stars.     He   fanned   on   in  philosophic   silence. 

"Tell  me  why  is  it  so  hot?"  repeated  Grace,  quite 
unconscious  of  the  emotions  she  was  stirring  in  her 
bespectacled  vis-a-vis. 

"Really,  I  don't  know,"  said  the  professor, 
startled  out  of  his  reveries.  Looking  around  at  the 
sky,  he  added:  "I  think  we're  going  to  have  a 
change  in  the  weather." 

"Oh,  I  hope  not!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Stuart  anx- 
iously. "What  makes  you  think  that?" 

"Well,"  replied  the  professor,  scanning  with  the 
expert  air  of  a  weather  prophet  the  distant  horizon, 
where  the  fiery  sun  was  sinking  behind  a  great  mass 
of  purple  cloud,  "I  don't  much  like  the  formation 
of  those  clouds  over  there.  In  these  latitudes  they 
usually  portend  a  storm  of  considerable  violence. 
The  sultriness,  the  unnatural  calm,  are  all  storm 
warnings  to  the  sailor,  and  if  another  proof  were 
wanted,  the  barometer  has  been  falling  rapidly  all 
day.  We're  sure  to  get  something  before  long." 

"Any thing's  better  than  this  heat,"  yawned  Grace. 
"I'd  love  to  see  a  big  storm,  with  tremendous  waves 
washing  all  over  the  ship." 

100 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"Really,  Grace,  I  think  it's  horrid  of  you  to  talk 
that  way,"  protested  Mrs.  Stuart,  half  in  jest,  half 
in  earnest.  "If  we  were  wrecked  or  something,  it 
would  serve  you  right." 

"I  wouldn't  mind  being  wrecked,"  laughed  Grace. 
"It  would  be  awfully  romantic — so  different  from 
our  conventional,  humdrum  life.  Just  fancy,  pro- 
fessor, if  the  ship  were  wrecked  and  you  and  I  were 
cast  away  on  a  desert  island,  with  only  monkeys, 
snakes,  and  possibly  savages  for  neighbors!" 

"You  jest,  Miss  Harmon,"  replied  the  professor 
seriously.  "But  such  things  have  occurred.  Don't 
you  remember  what  happened  to  the  passengers  of 
the  Aeon,  when  that  steamer  was  wrecked  on  Christ- 
mas Island?  The  survivors  were  ten  weeks  on  a 
barren  rock  in  the  South  Pacific.  One  woman's 
hair,  which  was  brown,  without  a  trace  of  gray, 
when  she  sailed  on  the  Aeon,  turned  almost  white, 
as  a  result  of  the  privations  and  nerve  strain  endured 
on  the  island." 

"Yes,  I  remember  reading  about  it  in  the  papers," 
said  Mrs.  Stuart.  "Possibly  she  lost  her  hair  dye 

in  the  panic." 

101 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"I'd  look  pretty  with  white  hair,"  laughed  Grace. 
"It's  the  fashion  now  to  wear  tufts  of  white  hair 
among  your  own." 

"If  a  cannibal  cooked  you  d  la  fricassee,  it 
wouldn't  matter  how  you  looked!"  growled  Mrs. 
Stuart. 

"Talking  of  desert  islands,"  said  the  professor 
thoughtfully,  "a  very  interesting  sociological  prob- 
lem might  be  solved  if  one  had  the  time  to  be  ship- 
wrecked and  the  courage  to  put  my  theory  to  the 
test." 

"What  theory  is  that?"  demanded  Grace,  with 
languid  curiosity. 

The  professor  peered  dubiously  at  both  women 
over  his  gold-rimmed  spectacles,  as  if  questioning 
their  ability  to  grasp  intellectual  problems  of  any 
nature.  Then  pedantically,  pompously,  as  if  ad- 
dressing a  college  class,  he  went  on : 

"Ethnology  and  sociology,  as  you  are  perhaps 
aware,  are  pet  sciences  with  me.  I  have  always 
taken  keen  interest  in  studying  man  in  his  relations 
to  his  fellow  man,  particularly  in  his  relations  with 
women." 

102 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

i 

He  paused,  as  if  afraid  he  had  said  something  in- 
delicate. Mrs.  Stuart  sat  up,  made  her  pillows  more 
comfortable,  and  said,  with  a  laugh : 

"This  sounds  interesting.  Go  on,  professor!" 
Thus  encouraged,  the  professor  continued: 
"We  must  not  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  man  as 
we  see  him  to-day — clean-shaven,  manicured, 
trouser-creased — is  only  a  step  removed  from  the 
naked  savage  ancestor  who  in  the  palaeolithic  age 
emerged  from  his  cave,  club  in  hand,  to  defend  his 
family  or  provide  it  with  food.  The  man  of  the 
stone  age  tore  flesh  from  the  skeletons  of  wild  ani- 
mals he  slew,  and  made  of  his  wife  a  beast  of 
burden.  To-day,  our  city  dweller  employs  a  French 
chef,  and  buys  for  his  wife  a  box  at  the  opera. 
Conditions  have  altered  radically  since  the  dawn 
of  history,  thousands  of  years  of  education  and 
refining  influences  have  tamed  the  primeval  man 
and  woman  and  taught  them  how  to  keep  their  in- 
stincts, their  passions,  under  control.  Yet  the 
change  is  far  more  apparent  than  real.  Civilization 
is  purely  artificial.  It  is  only  a  compromise,  a  con- 
vention. Our  boasted  refinement  at  best  is  little 

103 


BY  RIGHT  OF.CONQU&ST: 

more  than  skin  deep.  There's  an  old  saying: 
'Scratch  a  Russian  and  you'll  find  a  Tartar.'  We 
might  also  say:  'Scratch  civilized  man  and  you'll 
find  a  primeval  brute.'  Fundamentally,  men  and 
women  of  to-day  are  the  same  as  their  savage  an- 
cestors, they  are  moved  by  the  same  impulses  and 
desires  as  when  in  the  dark  quaternary  epoch  they 
roamed  naked  through  the  virgin  forests,  ferocious- 
looking  and  bestial  in  appetite,  their  matted  hair 
falling  over  their  brutal  faces,  their  prominent  teeth 
sharp  and  pointed  like  wolves'  fangs.  By  nature 
we  are  thieves,  murderers,  liars,  cheats." 

"You  have  a  fine  opinion  of  your  fellow  men,  I 
must  say,"  interrupted  Grace,  with  a  mischievous 
smile  at  Mrs.  Stuart. 

"I  am  stating  a  cold,  scientific  fact,  and  one  that  is 
unqualifiedly  endorsed  by  every  self-respecting  eth- 
nologist," replied  the  professor  firmly.  "Civiliza- 
tion," he  went  on,  "teaches  us  that  it  is  wrong  to 
kill,  to  steal,  to  lie,  and  society  has  amended  Nature's 
law  by  decreeing  that  the  murderer  shall  be  exe- 
cuted, the  thief  imprisoned,  the  liar  and  cheat  ostra- 
cized. That,  frankly,  is  the  chief  reason  why  the 

104 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

majority  of  us  behave  ourselves.  But  some  men 
are  so  constituted  that  they  are  unable  to  control 
their  brutal  instincts,  their  evil  passions.  Morally 
and  mentally,  sometimes  physically,  even,  they  re- 
semble in  striking  fashion  their  savage  prototypes 
of  six  thousand  years  ago.  For  instance,  take  that 
fireman  Armitage — a  colossus  in  physical  strength, 
obeying  only  brutal  impulses,  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses an  untutored  barbarian.  Civilization,  you  see, 
has  done  nothing  for  him.  He  is  the  primeval  man. 
To  me  he  is  interesting,  for  he  proves  the  truth  of 
my  atavistic  theory." 

Grace  yawned.  The  professor  was  too  deep  for' 
her.  In  fact,  she  found  him  rather  tiresome,  par- 
ticularly as  she  could  not  guess  what  he  was  driving 
at.  Mrs.  Stuart,  however,  was  a  more  attentive,  if 
somewhat  puzzled,  listener. 

"Bat  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  being  wrecked 
on  a  desert  island  ?"  she  demanded. 

The  professor  smiled  in  a  superior  kind  of  way. 

"Allow  me  to  come  to  my  point,"  he  said,  with  a 
lordly  wave  of  his  hand.  "Suppose  a  ship  like  the 
Atlanta,  for  instance,  were  wrecked,  and  the  only 

105 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

two  persons  who  survived  the  disaster — a  man  and 
a  woman — found  themselves  on  a  desert  island,  far 
from  the  regular  track  of  steamers  and  with  the  re- 
motest chance  of  any  vessel  seeing  their  signal  of 
distress.  Suppose  the  man  was  one  of  the  crew, 
a  common  sailor,  a  brute,  say,  of  the  type  of  that 
Armitage  fellow,  and  the  woman  one  of  the  first- 
cabin  passengers,  a  beautiful,  highly  cultured  girl, 
rich,  luxury-loving,  fastidious,  such,  for  instance, 
as  Miss  Harmon " 

"Please  do  me  the  favor  to  leave  me  out  of  your 
comparisons,"  interrupted  Grace  coldly.  She  did 
not  exactly  relish  the  coupling  of  her  name  with 
that  of  a  disreputable  stoker. 

"Oh — I  only  wanted  to  make  my  meaning  as 
plain  as  possible,"  stuttered  the  professor,  in  pro- 
fuse apology. 

"Your  meaning  isn't  plain  at  all !"  retorted  Grace, 
not  knowing  whether  to  laugh  or  to  be  angry. 

"It's  about  as  dense  as  an  Irish  Channel  fog,  but 
I  grasp  enough  to  see  that  it's  interesting,"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Stuart.  "Please  doa't  talk  in  parables 

106 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

any  longer,  professor.     Come  quickly  to  the  point 
I'm  getting  interested." 

'This  is  the  point,"  smiled  the  professor.  "What 
would  be  this  man's  and  woman's  attitude  to  each 
other?  Separated  under  normal  social  conditions 
by  the  widest  gulf  imaginable,  on  the  desert  island 
they  would  be  thrown  together  in  the  closest  inti- 
macy. The  highly  educated  woman,  the  refined 
product  of  centuries  of  high  breeding,  would  sud- 
denly find  herself  the  associate  and  helpmate  of  an 
uncouth,  brutal  fellow  barely  redeemed  from  bar- 
barism. Necessity  would  compel  her  to  look  to  him 
for  food.  Instinct  would  prompt  him  to  build  her  a 
shelter  from  the  elements,  and  to  protect  her  from 
attack.  As  their  enforced  sojourn  on  the  island 
grew  longer,  the  common  sailor  would  begin  to  cast 
covetous,  lustful  eyes  on  his  involuntary  companion, 
and  as  each  day  the  hope  of  rescue  became  more  re- 
mote, he  might  insist  on  ties  the  very  suggestion  of 
which  would  overwhelm  her  with  horror.  Yet  with 
no  one  but  God  above  to  call  upon  for  help,  she 
would  be  completely  at  the  man's  mercy.  She  would 
be  powerless  to  resist  or  to  deny  herself.  Her  re- 

107 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

finement,  her  culture,  her  high  intelligence,  would 
go  for  nothing.  The  primeval  man,  the  beast,  would 
assert  his  rights  and  only  death  could  save  her  honor 
from  the  exercise  of  his  brutal  force." 

"What  a  horrid  nightmare  to  conjure  up,"  inter- 
rupted Grace,  with  a  shudder.  "If  such  a  thing 
happened  to  me,  I'd  jump  into  the  sea." 

"I'd  pick  up  a  carving-knife  and  stick  him  in  the 
ribs,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Stuart,  laughing. 

"I  don't  think  either  of  you  would  do  anything 
of  the  sort,"  rejoined  the  professor.  "The  sailor 
would  quickly  pull  Miss  Harmon  out  of  the  water, 
and  there  wouldn't  be  carving-knives  lying  around 
with  which  to  do  any  rib-sticking.  No,  you  would 
let  Nature  work  out  the  problem," 

"What!"  cried  both  women  simultaneously. 
"You  mean  to  say  that  we  should " 

"No — not  at  all,"  smiled  the  professor.  "You  go 
too  quickly.  I  have  merely  stated  the  sailor's  de- 
sires. Now,  the  interesting  question  arises:  Will 
he  exercise  his  rights  as  the  stronger,  will  he  drag 
this  delicate,  highly  nurtured  girl  down  to  his  own 
animal  level,  or  will  she  by  sheer  force  of  character, 

108 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

by  her  fine  mentality  and  spiritual  force,  be  able  to 
tame  the  beast  and  lift  him  up  to  her  level?  That 
is  the  problem — a  most  interesting  one  from  the  so- 
ciological standpoint;  but  it  could  be  solved  only  by 
being  put  to  an  actual  test." 

"I  hope  you  don't  expect  either  of  us  to  make  the 
experiment,"  laughed  Mrs.  Stuart. 

"If  you  did,  I  should  certainly  aspire  to  be  the 
sailor,"  retorted,  gallantly,  the  man  of  science. 

"The  hypothesis  is  an  interesting  one,"  said  Grace 
thoughtfully.  "Alter  all,  the  situation  is  not  im- 
possible." 

The  professor  rubbed  his  hands  with  satisfaction. 

"Quite  so — quite  so !"  he  replied.  "What,  in  your 
opinion,  would  be  the  outcome?" 

For  a  moment  Grace  left  the  question  unan- 
swered. Then,  decisively,  she  said : 

"Such  a  girl  would  never  yield.  Her  training, 
her  pride,  her  self-respect,  would  protect  her.  She 
would  die  before  she  degraded  herself." 

"The  idea  is  preposterous!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Stuart  impatiently. 

The  professor  shook  his  head. 
109 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"My  dear  ladies,  you  are  both  mistaken.  I  once 
knew  a  New  York  girl,  highly  educated,  wealthy, 
popular  with  her  friends,  who  gave  up  everything, 
a  luxurious  home,  her  position  in  society,  to  follow 
the  man  she  loved — a  full-blooded  Indian — back  to 
the  tents  of  his  people.  To-day  that  girl  is  living 
Indian  fashion  on  a  Western  reservation.  In  place 
of  her  one-time  elegance  she  wears  her  hair  down 
over  her  shoulders,  an  old  blanket  keeps  her  warm, 
her  proud  carriage  has  given  place  to  the  uncertain, 
shambling  gait,  on  her  back  is  strapped  her  Indian 
papoose.  Her  old  life  is  practically  blotted  out." 

"Ah,"  interrupted  Grace,  "but  that  is  a  different 
case.  She  loved  the  Indian.  If  the  girl  on  the  island 
loved  the  sailor,  she  might  fall,  too,  but  love  should 
never  degrade.  On  the  contrary,  it  should  redeem 
and  uplift  the  man." 

The  professor  nodded  approvingly. 

"Bravo !  bravo !"  he  cried. 

"Really,  Grace,  I  had  no  idea  you  were  so  senti- 
mental!" exclaimed  Mrs.  Stuart. 

"In  other  words,"  went  on  the  professor,  address- 
ing the  younger  woman,  "you  think " 

no 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"I  think,"  replied  Grace  slowly  and  deliberately, 
"that  if  they  found  they  loved  each  other,  she  would 
not  quite  descend  to  his  level  nor  would  he  quite 
ascend  to  hers.  There  would  be  a  compromise.  In 
other  words,  she  would  stoop;  he  would  reach  up. 
That  is  my  view." 

"A  most  sensible  view — most  sensible!"  said  the 
professor,  with  enthusiasm. 

Mrs.  Stuart  sprang  up  from  her  chair.  Collecting 
her  wraps,  she  said : 

"This  debate  is  highly  interesting  and  instructive, 
but  if  I  stop  to  listen  to  any  more  I  shall  never  be 
dressed  for  dinner.  Come,  Grace,  don't  forget  we 
dine  earlier  to-night,  because  of  the  dance." 

The  professor  assisted  Grace  to  her  feet. 

"Thanks,"  she  said.  "I've  enjoyed  our  talk  so 
much.  You've  set  me  thinking.  It's  so  seldom  one 
is  encouraged  to  think  of  anything  worth  while." 

The  ladies  disappeared  below,  and  the  professor, 
tipping  his  cap,  turned  on  his  heel  and  continued  his 
walk.  On  the  promenade-deck,  where  a  dozen  sail- 
ors were  busy  preparing  for  the  evening's  coming 

III; 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

festivities,  he  met  Captain  Summers,  who  was  en- 
joying a  smoke  before  dinner. 

"Well,  captain,  pretty  warm  for  dancing,  eh  ?  Is 
it  going  to  get  any  cooler?" 

The  captain  stopped  short  and  squinted  around  at 
the  sky.  As  he  took  in  the  weather  signs,  an  anx- 
ious look  came  into  his  face,  and  he  replied  gruffly : 

"We'll  get  something  to-night,  that's  sure.  The 
glass  is  falling  rapidly.  But  I  wouldn't  say  anything 
about  it  to  the  ladies,  if  I  were  you." 


BI2 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ENCLOSED  with  sail-cloth  for  almost  its  entire 
length,  brilliantly  illuminated  by  hundreds  of 
electric  bulbs  skilfully  clustered  in  the  folds 
of  the  artistically  draped  bunting,  with  its  crowds  of 
dancers,  the  women  with  their  beautiful  gowns, 
white  shoulders  and  flashing  jewels,  the  ship's 
officers  in  full  uniform,  the  men  passengers  in  dress 
coats — the  promenade-deck  presented  an  animated 
scene  of  gaiety,  light,  and  color,  rendered  all  the 
more  striking  by  the  sharp  contrast  with  the  inky 
darkness  beyond  the  steamer's  rail.  The  steward^ 
orchestra,  screened  behind  a  bank  of  decorative 
plants  in  a  railed-off  space  at  the  far  end  of  the 
deck,  was  playing  a  dreamy  Waldteufel  waltz,  and 
the  gay,  laughing  couples,  their  faces  slightly  flushed 
from  champagne,  whirling  gracefully  to  the  strains 
of  the  languorous  music,  made  up  a  picture  that 
appealed  sensuously  to  ear  and  eye. 

Grace  was  dancing  with  Count  von  Hatzfeld.    In 
a  decollete,  clinging  gown  of  rose-colored  chiffon, 

"3 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

cut  to  set  off  to  full  advantage  her  snow-white  shoul- 
ders and  perfect  figure,  never  had  she  looked  so 
radiant.  Around  her  slender  throat  was  a  string  of 
priceless  pearls,  a  gift  from  her  father,  and  her 
hair,  dark  and  lustrous,  was  arranged  in  a  Grecian 
Psyche  knot  with  gold  bands.  She  held  undisputed 
sway  as  belle  of  the  ball,  and  covetous  feminine  eyes, 
ardent  masculine  eyes,  followed  her  and  her  lucky 
partner  as  they  waltzed  up  and  down  the  deck. 
Both  tall  and  graceful,  they  made  a  striking  couple. 

The  count  held  her  pressed  closely  to  him  as  they 
turned  slowly  to  the  measured  time  of  the  voluptu- 
ous music.  Her  eyes  were  closed  and  her  head 
drooped  slightly  on  his  shoulder.  To  him  it  seemed 
like  a  taste  of  heaven  to  hold  this  beautiful  creature 
in  such  close  embrace,  and  as  he  inhaled  the  subtle 
aroma  that  emanated  from  her  skin  and  hair,  like 
some  exquisite,  unfamiliar  perfume,  intoxicating  in 
its  effect,  he  wondered  how  he  could  have  been  such 
an  ass  to  waste  so  many  precious  hours  on  Mrs. 
Phelps. 

But  Grace  was  not  thinking  of  tfie  count.  He 
was  not  the  type  of  man  to  interest  her.  She  en- 

114 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

joyed  dancing  for  itself,  and  she  abandoned  herself 
to  it  without  a  thought  of  the  man  who  might  hap- 
pen to  be  her  partner.  She  loved  the  graceful, 
rhythmical  movement  of  the  waltz,  the  rapid  whirl- 
ing round  and  round  which  made  her  heart  beat 
tumultuously,  the  languorous  music  which  intoxi- 
cated. She  loved  the  luxury  of  costly  costumes, 
the  odor  of  beautiful  flowers,  the  sparkle  of  dia- 
monds and  the  careless  gaiety  and  unconsequential 
chatter  of  the  people  of  her  own  set.  In  short,  hers 
was  purely  a  sensual  enjoyment — not  materially  dif- 
ferent to  that  she  aroused  in  the  men — but  she  did 
not  realize  it. 

"Ach,  this  is  divine !"  whispered  the  count.  "May 
I  have  the  next  waltz?" 

At  that  moment  a  couple  brushed  past  them. 

"There's  Mrs.  Phelps  with  Mr.  Fitzhugh,"  said 
Grace  mischievously.  "She  would  scratch  my  eyes 
out  if  she  caught  me  dancing  with  you  again  so 
soon." 

"I  care  not,"  replied  the  German  recklessly  and 
ardently.  "When  I  see  your  eyes,  the  world  is  dead 
to  me." 

"5 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

A  compliment  of  this  kind  would  have  pleased 
most  women,  but  Grace  was  accustomed  to  them. 
They  rather  irritated  her. 

"I'm  tired  now,"  she  said  languidly.  "Please 
take  me  to  my  seat." 

They  joined  Mrs.  Stuart,  who,  comfortably  en- 
sconced in  a  corner,  was  flirting  desperately  with 
Mr.  Brown,  the  second  officer,  a  tall,  handsome  man, 
smart-looking  in  his  full-dress  uniform  and  white 
gloves.  The  count  murmured  his  thanks,  bowed, 
and  retired. 

"I'm  so  thirsty!"  gasped  Grace,  sinking  into  a 
chair.  "I  wish  I  had  an  ice." 

"Allow  me  to  get  you  one,"  said  Mr.  Brown, 

Before  she  could  protest,  the  second  officer  nad 
disappeared  in  the  direction  of  the  saloon,  where 
an  elaborate  supper  was  laid  out./ 

Mrs.  Stuart  turned  to  her  protegee : 

"Grace,  you've  made  a  tremendous  hit  to-rrighi. 
Your  pearls  look  magnificent.  All  the  women  are 
raving  about  them." 

"They  ought  to  be,"  replied  Grace  indifferently. 
"They  cost  enough." 

116 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST* 

"Forty  thousand,  didn't  you  say?" 

"I  think  that's  what  dad  paid." 

"Lucky  girl!  They  might  be  glass  for  all  you 
seem  to  care." 

Grace  made  a  gesture  of  impatience  as  she  an- 
swered; 

-"vv'nat  good  are  they?  Merely  pretty  gewgaws. 
Their  value  means  nothing  to  me.  I'm  sick  of  hear- 
ing what  things  cost.  They  won't  bring  me  what  I 
want  most." 

"What's  that— a  husband?"  smiled  Mrs.  Stuart. 

"Yes,"  replied  Grace  petulantly.  "A  husband — a 
man  I  could  respect  enough  to  want  to  marry.  I 
lose  patience  with  all  these  animated  monkeys  that 
dangle  after  me.  I  want  a  real  man." 

"Not  very  kind  to  the  count  after  he's  been  so 
attentive  to  you  all  the  evening,"  replied  Mrs. 
Stuart,  elevating  her  eyebrows.  "No  wonder  you're 
tired,  after  dancing  every  single  dance.  I  should  be 
dead  in  your  place.  It's  all  very  well  to  be  the  belle 
of  the  ball,  but  it's  wearing  on  the  nerves.  I'm  sat- 
isfied to  play  wallflower  and  talk  to  the  second 
officer.  You've  no  idea  how  perfectly  fascinating  he 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

is.  His  gold  braid  and  buttons  are  too  cute  for  any- 
thing! What  was  the  count  breathing  down  your 
neck?" 

"Oh,  a  lot  of  foolishness!"  laughed  Grace. 

"Take  care,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Stuart,  holding  up  a 
warning  ringer.  "I  saw  Mrs.  Phelps  glaring  at  you 
several  times.  Besides,  Germans  make  impossible 
husbands.  The  common  German  is  gross,  the  edu- 
cated German  is  conceited.  Both  are  insufferable. 
You'd  be  miserable." 

"Don't  be  alarmed,  dear,"  smiled  Grace.  "I  think 
no  more  of  the  count  than  I  do  of  those  musicians, 
not  so  much.  Their  music  charms  and  he  bores." 

Mr.  Brown  reappeared,  followed  by  a  steward 
carrying  a  tray  on  which  were  ices  and  petits 
fours. 

"Oh,  how  perfectly  sweet  of  you!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Stuart.  "I  was  dying  for  an  ice — the  heat  is 
positively  dreadful." 

"It's  getting  warmer  every  minute,"  panted 
Grace.  "I  can  hardly  breathe.  I  think  we're  going 
to  have  a  storm,  don't  you,  Mr.  Brown  ?" 

"Oh — 1   don't  know,"   replied   the  officer   hesi 

-<« 

118 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

tatingly.  "It's  always  hot  in  these  latitudes,  you 
know.  This  is  nothing  to  what  you'll  get  in  Bom- 
bay." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Grace,  nibbling  daintily  at 
the  delicious  frozen  delicacy,  "but  there's  something 
weird  in  the  unnatural  stillness  of  the  air.  I  don't 
like  to  see  the  water  so  calm." 

The  second  officer  shifted  uneasily  about  on  his 
feet.  He  knew  well  that  there  was  every  indication 
of  a  storm.  The  barometer  had  been  falling  steadily 
for  hours.  The  latest  reading  marked  ten-twenty- 
nine,  which  was  the  lowest  he  had  ever  seen  it.  The 
captain,  too,  was  uneasy.  In  fact,  they  were  only 
waiting  for  the  dance  to  break  up  to  hurry  and  get 
everything  shipshape  for  the  blow  which  they  knew 
was  inevitable.  Meantime,  he  argued  to  himself,, 
there  was  no  use  in  alarming  the  ladies  or  spoiling 
their  fun.  He  was  about  to  put  off  further  ques- 
tioning by  some  reassuring  remark,  when  just  then 
a  quartermaster  ran  up,  and,  touching  his  cap,  said: 

"Cap'n  wishes  to  see  you  on  the  bridge,  sir." 

"Very  well,  I'll  come  at  once." 

Turning  to  the  ladies,  Mr.  Brown  excused  him- 
119 


self,  and,  with  a  salute,  went  away,  followed  by  the 
sailor. 

The  gaiety  was  now  at  its  height.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  move  about  the  deck,  so  crowded  was  it  with 
dancers  and  promenaders.  Suddenly  the  concealed 
orchestra  struck  up  the  dulcet  strains  of  Strauss' 
Elite  Danube,  and  once  more  the  couples  began 
gliding  and  turning  on  the  spotless  deck,  the  wom- 
en's gowns  making  a  beautiful  and  ever-changing 
kaleidoscope  of  color  and  motion.  Everybody  was 
in  high  spirits.  The  women  were  flirting  and  drink- 
ing champagne.  The  men  were  laughing  and  hav- 
ing what  the  Hon.  Percy  Fitzhugh  declared  a  ripper 
of  a  good  time.  It  was  a  festival  of  fortune's  fa- 
vorites, a  merrymaking  of  those  lucky  few  who 

have  nothing  to  do  but  enjoy  life's  pleasures. 
******* 

Up  on  top  of  the  deckhouse,  hidden  among  the 
ventilators  and  smokestacks,  two  men  gloomily 
watched  the  gay  scene  below.  They  were  grimy 
with  coal-dust  and  they  wore  greasy  clothes,  with 
tattered  coats  buttoned  close  to  their  necks.  Hot  as 
was  the  night,  it  felt  cool  to  them,  accustomed  as 

120 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

they  were  to  the  withering  heat  of  the  furnaces  be- 
low. One  was  Armitage;  the  other  was  Bill.  The 
two  stokers  had  crawled  out  of  the  inferno  to  steal 
a  breath  of  fresh  air.  The  scene  before  them  seemed 
like  a  vision  of  fairyland. 

"Gee  whiz!"  exclaimed  Bill,  when  he  had  some- 
what recovered  from  his  astonishment.  "It's  like 
at  the  theayter.  Get  on  to  'em  lights  and  the  flags, 
will  ye,  and  the  bloomin'  musicians!  Look  at  'em 
women  folk  dancin'  all  decked  out  in  their  sparklers, 
and  'em  blokes  wid  their  open-faced  clothes!  Offi- 
cers, too,  has  on  their  Sunday  duds.  And,  by  gosh ! 
If  they  ain't  drinkin'  fizz !  Say,  ain't  it  great  to  be 
rich!" 

"Let  them  dance!"  growled  Armitage  savagely, 
as  he  sullenly  watched  the  merry  crowd.  "They'd 
dance  to  another  tune  if  the  boilers  were  suddenly 
to  burst,  or  if  the  ship  ran  foul  of  a  rock."  Fiercely, 

he  added :  "D n  'em !  I'd  like  to  see  them  down 

on  their  blessed  knees,  weeping  and  praying!" 

To  him  these  men  and  women,  enjoying  them- 
selves in  fine  clothes,  with  plenty  of  money,  without 
a  care,  represented  the  enemy.  They  belonged  to 

121 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

the  class  that  had  wronged  him,  the  world  that  had 
been  trampling  on  him  all  these  years.  They  were 
those  who  laughed  when  he  suffered,  who  threw 
him  a  bone  as  one  does  to  a  dog.  How  he  hated 
them!  He  ground  his  teeth  at  the  consciousness  of 
his  own  impotence  to  do  them  injury. 

"That's  all  right!"  grinned  Bill.  "But  anythin' 
as  happens  to  'em  would  catch  us,  too.  I  ain't  ready 
for  Davy  Jones'  locker  yet." 

Still  watching  the  brilliant  crowd  below,  as  if 
fascinated,  Armitage  replied  with  an  oath: 

"I'm  ready  for  anything.  I'd  just  as  soon  go  to 
the  bottom  as  not.  What  do  you  fellows  get  out  of 
life,  anyhow?  Nothing  but  hard  work,  kicks,  and 
curses — scarcely  enough  to  eat,  while  those  swells 
have  more  than  they  know  what  to  do  with.  And 
they  never  earned  a  cent  of  it."  Savagely,  he  went 
on :  "It's  dead  wrong,  I  tell  you.  Why  should  one 
come  into  the  world  poor  and  the  other  rich?  Do 
you  wonder  I  hate  them?" 

On  the  deck  beneath,  Grace  rose  from  her  chair 
and  took  Count  von  Hatzfeld's  proffered  arm.  The 
count  had  been  most  persistent  in  asking  for  another 

122 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

dance,  and  to  get  rid  of  his  importunities,  she  had 
consented.  Slowly  they  began  to  turn  to  the  charm- 
ing strains  of  the  Fledermaus  waltz,  their  tall,  grace- 
ful figures  making  them  conspicuous  among  all  the 
other  dancers. 

"Say!"  exclaimed  Bill.  "Does  ye  see  that  tall  gal 
dancin'  wid  the  guy  wid  the  Dutch  whiskers  ?  Ain't 
she  a  stunner?" 

Armitage's  eyes  followed  those  of  his  mate  until 
they  alighted  on  Grace,  when  they  were  immediately 
arrested.  For  a  few  minutes  he  said  nothing, 
watching  in  silence  the  proud  beauty  who  was  the 
cynosure  of  every  eye  on  deck.  With  growing  inter- 
est he  took  mental  note  of  her  dark,  flashing  eyes, 
her  slender  neck  and  snow-white  shoulders,  her 
splendid  figure,  beautiful  hair,  and  graceful  car- 
riage. 

"She's  pretty,  all  right!"  he  muttered,  at  last. 
"Look  at  those  pearls  round  her  neck.  They're 
worth  a  fortune.  Isn't  she  one  of  those  women  who 
came  down  to  the  stoke-hold  the  other  day?" 

Before  Bill  could  reply  there  was  a  flash  of  light- 
ning, followed  by  a  sharp  clap  of  thunder.  The 

123 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

sail-cloths  began  to  flap  ominously.  On  their  grimy 
faces  the  two  stokers  felt  drops  of  rain. 

"We're  in  for  it!"  cried  Bill.  "Did  ye  see  'em 
storm-clouds  ?" 

There  was  another  glare,  more  vivid  than  the 
first,  followed  almost  immediately  by  a  report  that 
left  no  doubt  of  the  violence  of  the  storm  which  was 
fast  approaching.  The  flash  revealed  a  mass  of  low- 
lying  clouds,  swollen  with  moisture  to  the  bursting 
point,  around  which  danced  lurid  green  flames.  The 
wind  was  rising  rapidly  with  a  sinister  moan.  The 
sea,  while  still  smooth,  was  seething  and  covered 
with  foam  like  water  boiling. 

"It's  goin'  to  be  a  corker!"  shouted  Bill.  "Let's 
get  in  before  it  breaks." 

Without  waiting  to  see  if  Armitage  was  follow- 
ing him,  he  ran  back  to  the  ventilator  up  which 
both  men  had  climbed,  and  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

BELOW  on  the  promenade-deck  all  was  excite- 
ment and  confusion.     The  peal  of  thunder 
had  spread  consternation  among  the  women, 
and  there  was  a  general  stampede  for  shelter. 

The  first  rush  of  wind  played  terrible  havoc  with 
the  bunting.  The  floral  decorations  were  scattered 
in  all  directions.  Part  of  the  canvas  awning  was 
torn  down.  Chairs,  tables,  and  glasses  crashed  to 
the  deck.  Amid  the  uproar  were  heard  the  harsh 
commands  of  the  ship's  officers,  and  the  running 
here  and  there  of  sailors,  as  they  hastened  to  execute 
orders.  The  wind  squall  died  away  as  quickly  as  it 
had  come,  and  for  a  brief  spell  the  turmoil  was  suc- 
ceeded by  an  unnatural  quiet.  Some  of  the  passen- 
gers, inexperienced  in  weather  signs,  thought  the 
worst  was  over,  but  the  wiseacres  shook  their  heads. 
It  was  the  lull  before  the  onrushing  storm. 

Grace  and  Mrs.  Stuart  had  fled  inside  at  the  first 
alarm,  and  they  both  stood  at  the  saloon  entrance, 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

peering  nervously  into  the  darkness  beyond  the  rail, 
anxiously  questioning  Professor  Hanson  and  Count 
von  Hatzfeld,  who  tried  to  reassure  them.  The 
Honorable  Percy  Fitzhugh,  his  face  white  and  vis- 
ibly nervous,  was  so  excited  that  he  stuck  his 
monocle  in  the  wrong  eye. 

"I  don't  think  it  will  amount  to  much,"  asserted 
the  professor,  in  his  pompous,  authoritative  way. 

The  words  were  barely  spoken  when  he  was  rude- 
ly contradicted.  Another  blinding  flash  rent  the 
heavens,  revealing  great  masses  of  forbidding-look- 
ing clouds  scudding  across  the  sky  and  hanging  so 
low  that  they  seemed  almost  to  touch  the  water.  A 
terrific  report  followed,  which  shook  the  ship. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  frightened!"  wailed  Mrs.  Stuart, 
clinging  nervously  to  Mr.  Fitzhugh's  arm,  much  to 
the  annoyance  of  that  gentleman,  who  felt  none  too 
comfortable  himself. 

"Nonsense,  Cora,  don't  be  so  foolish!"  protested 
Grace.  "We're  perfectly  safe  here,  no  matter  what 
happens." 

"She's  beginning  to  roll,"  said  the  professor,  as 
tite  ship  gave  a  sudden  lurch. 

126 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

"Why  are  we  rolling — is  it  getting  rough  ?"  asked 
Grace,  who  was  beginning  to  show  signs  of  trepi- 
dation. "There  doesn't  seem  to  be  any  wind." 

"It's  so  deuced  dark  one  can't  see  a  bally  thing!" 
stammered  Mr.  Fitzhugh. 

The  night  was  pitch-dark,  and  after  the  brilliancy 
of  the  electric  lights,  to  which  their  eyes  had  grown 
accustomed  all  evening,  the  surrounding  wall  of 
blackness  seemed  all  the  more  opaque  and  impene- 
trable. Still,  there  was  no  wind,  and  the  heat  was 
suffocating.  The  uncanny  silence  continued.  What 
could  be  seen  of  the  sea  was  smooth,  and  oily,  and 
illuminated  in  spots  with  green  phosphorescent 
lights.  A  deep  swell  had  set  in.  Rolling  in  great 
billows  from  the  south,  it  caused  the  steamer  to 
rock  so  violently  that  the  women  had  to  hold  fast 
in  order  to  keep  their  feet. 

"Isn't  this  rolling  horrible?  Each  minute  I  im- 
agine the  steamer  is  going  to  turn  over!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Stuart,  so  alarmed  that  she  hardly  knew  what 
she  was  saying. 

"A  heavy  swell  like  this,"  explained  the  professor 
calmly,  "either  follows  a  gale  or  cornes  in  advance 

127 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

of  one.  This  sea  is  evidently  the  forerunner  of  a 
storm.  The  ladies  had  better  go  below  before  it  gets 
any  worse." 

"I  wouldn't  think  of  going  to  bed,"  declared  Mrs. 
Stuart  emphatically.  "Just  think  if  we  had  to  take 
to  the  boats  and  I  were  in  my  curl-papers." 

Still  no  wind;  only  a  weird  moaning  in  the  dis- 
tance, which  was  distinctly  audible  amid  the  pro- 
found, mysterious  silence.  The  lightning,  now  more 
frequent,  revealed  a  sky  terrifying  in  aspect.  The 
suspense  was  nerve-racking  to  the  stoutest  hearted. 
The  captain  was  heard  shouting  orders  on  the 
bridge.  Officers  and  sailors  hurried  aft,  and, 
driving  the  passengers  below,  closed  and  barricaded 
the  storm  doors.  Gathered  at  the  port-holes,  their 
anxiety  increasing  each  moment,  the  passengers 
waited  and  matched.  Momentarily,  the  sea  grew 
more  convulsive.  The  waves  increased  perceptibly 
in  size,  and  the  ship  rocked  more  violently.  Nearer 
and  nearer  came  that  weird,  depressing,  wailing 
sound,  like  the  moaning  of  all  the  unhappy  souls 
that  were  ever  drowned  in  the  treacherous  waters  of 
the  deep.  Grace  and  her  companions,  now  thor- 

128 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

oughly  alarmed,  felt  that  something  extraordinary 
was  about  to  happen,  and  it  did. 

All  at  once  it  came.  There  was  a  blinding  sheet 
of  greenish  flame,  followed  by  a  deafening  report. 
Then  hell  itself  broke  loose.  The  hurricane  was 
upon  them.  It  came  with  a  terrifying  rush  of  air, 
which,  screeching  and  howling,  raced  along  at  a 
velocity  of  a  hundred  miles  an  hour,  accompanied  by 
torrents  of  rain.  Nothing  could  withstand  the 
whirlwind's  fearful  force.  Everything  loose  on 
deck  was  instantly  swept  away.  The  Marconi  aerial 
wires,  snapping  like  twine,  were  rendered  useless 
in  an  instant,  the  life-boats  strained  at  their  lashings, 
the  air  was  full  of  flying  debris,  the  officers  on  the 
bridge  held  on  for  their  lives.  The  sea,  now  rising 
rapidly  and  worked  into  a  frenzy  by  the  force  of  the 
wind,  was  nothing  but  a  waste  of  seething  foam. 
The  huge  steamer  heeled  over  at  the  first  shock,  and 
great,  green  seas,  capped  with  foam,  began  to  break 
upon  the  decks.  Inside,  the  stewards  ran  here  and 
there,  closing  ports,  while  the  passengers,  scared 
out  of  their  wits,  were  gathered  in  the  big  dining- 
saloon,  gathering  such  comfort  as  they  could  by 

129 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

ceaseless   questioning   of   the  busy   ship's   officers. 

"Is  there  any  danger,  Mr.  Brown?"  Grace  asked 
the  second  officer,  as  he  hurried  past. 

"No — no  danger  at  all!"  he  laughed  unconcern- 
edly. "Just  a  little  blow,  that's  all.  No  storm  that 
was  ever  brewed  could  sink  this  ship." 

Grace  was  reassured,  and  she  breathed  more 
freely,  but  Mrs.  Stuart  was  skeptical. 

"Ship's  officers  never  acknowledge  there  is  dan- 
ger," she  said  crossly.  "They  wouldn't  admit  it 
even  if  we  were  all  struggling  for  our  lives  in  the 
water." 

"Oh,  there's  no  question  that  the  ship  is  staunch 
enough,"  said  the  professor.  "The  only  cause  for 
alarm  would  be  if  the  hurricane  blew  us  out  of  our 
course  and  the  steamer  were  to  run  on  a  rock." 

As  he  spoke  there  was  a  terrifying  crash  of  glass 
and  an  inrush  of  water.  Mrs.  Stuart  screamed,  and 
stewards  ran  from  all  directions.  A  giant  wave  had 
broken  the  great  glass  dome  over  the  dining-room, 
and  the  water  was  pouring  down  in  torrents. 

"What  will  become  of  us?  Where  can  we  go?" 
wailed  Mrs.  Stuart. 

130 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

"The  staterooms  are  the  best  place  in  a  storm/' 
said  the  professor. 

"Yes,"  said  Grace.  "Let's  go  to  my  stateroom. 
It's  large  enough  to  hold  us  all.  We  can  be  miser- 
able together.  Come." 

They  followed  Grace,  leaving  the  stewards  to 
mop  up  the  water. 

The  tempest  had  now  reached  its  height.  The 
shrieking  of  the  wind  and  the  thunderous  blows  of 
the  terrific  seas,  as  they  broke  against  the  sides  of 
the  ship,  was  terrifying  to  listen  to.  The  boldest 
among  the  men  passengers  no  longer  concealed  their 
anxiety,  and  most  of  the  women  were  in  a  mental 
condition  bordering  on  panic.  Mrs.  Phelps  refused 
to  follow  the  example  of  Grace  and  retire  to  her 
stateroom.  She  preferred,  she  said,  to  be  where  she 
could  get  out  easily  if  anything  happened.  So  with 
a  stiff  brandy  and  soda  to  give  her  courage,  and 
Count  von  Hatzfeld  to  keep  her  company,  the 
widow  prepared  to  sit  out  the  night  in  company 
with  a  crowd  of  other  frightened  passengers,  who 
sat  all  huddled  together  in  a  sheltered  corner  of  the 
dining-saloon. 


Up  on  the  deck,  where  duty  compelled  the  officers 
and  crew  to  expose  themselves  to  the  full  fury  of 
the  storm,  the  scene  was  wild  beyond  description. 
The  force  of  the  wind  was  extraordinary.  It  was 
impossible  to  face  it  and  breathe.  The  noise  was 
deafening.  What  with  the  continual  roar  of  the 
now  raging  sea,  the  screeching  of  the  tempest  and 
the  crash  of  thunder,  the  tumult  was  appalling.  The 
officers  on  the  bridge,  clad  all  in  oilskins,  hung  on 
for  their  lives,  shouting  orders  through  megaphones. 

A  tremendous  sea  was  running  and  the  Atlanta 
labored  heavily.  She  rolled  so  badly  that  it  seemed 
impossible  that  she  could  ever  right  herself  again, 
and  every  now  and  then  there  came  a  lurch  that 
strained  all  the  joints,  throwing  everybody  off  their 
feet.  The  promenade-deck,  swept  by  foaming  green 
water,  was  practically  afloat.  One  giant  comber 
after  another  broke  over  the  rail  with  a  thunderous 
roar,  sending  up  clouds  of  spray  that  completely 
hid  the  bridge  from  sight.  The  night  was  pitch- 
dark.  Only  the  intermittent  flashes  of  lightning  per- 
mitted a  glimpse  of  the  raging  ocean.  It  being  im- 
possible to  see  farther  than  a  ship's  length  ahead, 

132 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQ  UHST 

the  officers  on  the  bridge  were  ready  for  any  emer- 
gency. The  lookouts  had  been  doubled,  and  the 
engines  slowed  down.  Captain  Summers  had  left 
nothing  undone  to  ensure  the  safety  of  the  passen- 
gers entrusted  to  his  care  and  skill,  but  it  was  evi- 
dent from  the  way  in  which  he  bent  forward  and 
strained  his  eyes  in  an  effort  to  penetrate  the  murk 
ahead,  that  the  situation  was  critical. 

Among  those  exposed  to  the  weather  on  the  upper 
decks  there  was  only  one  who  watched  with  grim 
indifference  the  fury  of  the  hurricane.  The  fiercer 
the  wind  blew,  the  angrier  grew  the  ocean,  the 
higher  rose  Armitage's  spirits.  When  the  tremen- 
dous seas  began  to  break  over  the  vessel,  the  stoker 
exulted.  He  was  still  among  the  ventilators  where 
Bill  had  left  him,  not  having  had  time  to  retreat 
before  the  storm  broke.  Caught  by  the  first  rush 
of  wind,  he  was  hurled  violently  against  an  iron 
stanchion  and  knocked  senseless.  When  he  came 
to,  he  found  himself  clinging  desperately  to  a  rail, 
with  the  hurricane  blowing  right  over  him.  The 
force  of  the  wind  was  inconceivable.  He  tried  to 
stagger  to  his  feet  and  resist  it,  but  he  could  not 

133 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

move.  The  atmosphere  was  full  of  a  rushing,  irre- 
sistible force  which  suffocated  him.  The  rain, 
driven  with  merciless  violence,  blinded  him.  He 
could  neither  breathe  nor  see.  His  ears  were  deaf- 
ened by  the  unearthly  screeching  of  the  wind  and  the 
constant  roar  of  the  waves.  A  flash  rent  the  sur- 
rounding blackness.  He  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
water  convulsed  in  a  fury,  the  decks  below  swept 
by  foaming  seas,  the  ship's  officers  and  crew  run- 
ning excitedly  about. 

It  flashed  upon  him  suddenly  that  the  steamer 
was  in  danger,  yet,  instead  of  making  him  tremble 
with  apprehension,  the  thought  stirred  within  him 
a  thrill  of  savage  exultation.  Why  should  he  care  ? 
Only  those  who  enjoyed  life  had  reason  to  recoil 
from  death.  What  joys  did  life  hold  out  to  him? 
He  could  never  redeem  the  past.  He  was  tired  of 
the  struggle.  He  had  knocked  about  the  world  long 
enough.  He  would  be  discharged  on  the  steamer's 
return  to  port,  and  it  would  be  hard,  if  not  impos- 
sible, to  find  another  job.  Luck  was  certainly 
against  him.  What  was  the  use  of  bucking  against 
one's  luck?  It  would  be  as  well  to  have  done  with 

134 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

it  all.  A  jump  into  the  sea,  a  moment's  choking 
and  involuntary  struggle  with  the  waves,  and  all 
would  be  over.  His  jaws  closed  with  a  click,  and  a 
hard  expression  came  into  his  eyes.  If  this  was  to 
be  the  end  of  all  his  hardships  and  suffering,  at  least 
he  would  not  go  alone.  Those  first-cabin  passen- 
gers, with  their  dainty  frocks  and  fastidious  man- 
ners— they  would  have  to  take  the  same  watery  road 
as  he.  The  rich  and  the  poor,  the  happy  and  the 
wretched — all  are  equal  in  the  presence  of  Death. 
And  as  each  second  the  hurricane  increased  in  fury, 
and  the  ship  plunged  more  heavily,  he  had  a  sense 
of  savage  joy  as,  in  his  mind,  he  pictured  the  final 
catastrophe,  the  wild  scramble  for  the  boats,  and 
the  final  screams  and  death  struggles  in  the  boiling 
waves. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  deafening  roar.  He  heard 
warning  shouts,  followed  by  the  splintering  of  wood 
and  the  smashing  of  glass.  Then  came  a  solid  wall 
of  green  water.  A  mountainous  sea  swept  clean 
over  the  place  where  he  lay,  and  passed  on,  leaving 
him  bruised  and  gurgling  for  breath.  Only  the  rail 
had  prevented  him  from  being  carried  bodily  over 

135 


the  side.  A  giant  wave  had  crashed  down  on  the 
ship,  twisting  rails,  smashing  life-boats,  and  deluging 
the  interior  of  the  ship  with  tons  of  water.  Below 
could  be  heard  the  shouts  of  the  passengers.  A  mo- 
ment later,  without  further  warning,  came  another 
and  more  serious  shock,  a  series  of  bumps  on  the 
ship's  bottom,  accompanied  by  a  harsh,  rending 
sound.  The  steamer  stopped  and  trembled  from 
bow  to  stern.  There  was  a  grinding  sound.  The 
vessel  listed  and  heeled  far  over.  The  engines  sud- 
denly stopped.  The  siren  began  to  blow  dismally. 
The  officers  were  shouting.  The  Atlanta  had  run 
on  a  rock. 

In  the  saloon  and  staterooms  all  was  chaos  and 
confusion.  The  electric  lights  had  gone  out,  the 
sudden  inrush  of  water  having  extinguished  the 
furnaces.  Already  the  scared  firemen  were  climbing 
up  from  the  stoke-hold  like  rats  escaping  from  a 
sinking  ship.  Every  one  realized  that  the  steamer 
was  doomed,  yet  there  was  no  panic.  The  immi- 
nence of  the  peril  seemed  to  have  stricken  every  one 
dumb,  passengers  and  stewards  alike.  Hardly  a 
sound  was  heard  except  the  quick  orders  given  by 

136 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

the  officers  and  the  noise  of  the  passengers'  footfalls, 
as  they  hastened  up  on  deck.  Every  one  was  cool. 
The  men  retained  their  self-possession,  the  women 
their  fortitude.  There  was  no  sign  of  hysteria.  On 
every  one's  face  was  a  tense  look  of  quiet  anxiety, 
as  if  it  was  realized  that  death  was  near,  and  each 
had  summoned  up  courage  to  meet  it  bravely.  Even 
Mrs.  Stuart,  white-faced  and  half  fainting,  did  not 
give  way  entirely.  She  and  Grace,  assisted  by  Pro- 
fessor Hanson,  made  their  way  as  quickly  as  they 
could  to  the  deck  where,  all  huddled  together,  they 
patiently  waited  for  the  sailors  to  lower  the  boats. 
The  waves  were  running  mountain  high.  What  use 
were  the  life-boats  in  such  a  sea  ?  Grace's  lips  moved 
in  prayer. 

Armitage,  still  clinging  to  the  rail,  watched  the 
sailors  as  they  worked  rapidly  at  the  davits  to  lower 
the  boats.  This,  he  said  to  himself,  was  certainly 
the  end.  No  boat  could  live  in  those  tremendous 
seas.  They  would  all  drown  like  rats.  He  saw  the 
Honorable  Percy  Fitzhugh,  still  in  his  spats  and 
green  Tyrolian  hat,  but  very  humble  now,  and  white- 
faced,  standing  by  the  girl  he  had  seen  dancing — the 

137 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

proud  beauty  with  the  big  dark  eyes.  She  was  pale 
and  silent,  yet  she  did  not  give  way  to  hysterical 
emotion.  He  admired  her  for  her  pluck.  She  was 
spunky — that  was  evident.  Some  women  got  into  a 
boat,  which  was  lowered  away  in  safety.  Another 
was  let  down,  loaded  to  the  gunwale  with  human 
freight.  Just  as  it  touched  the  water  there  came  a 
tremendous  wave,  the  fragile  boat  was  tossed  high 
in  the  air,  and  in  an  instant  its  occupants  were  strug- 
gling in  the  water.  There  were  women's  screams 
and  men's  shouts,  then  a  sinister  silence.  Armitage 
laughed.  At  last  he  had  the  upper  hand.  These 
swell  cabin  passengers  drowning  there  before  his 
eyes  were  afraid  of  death,  while  he  welcomed  it. 
He  felt  grateful  that  this  much  revenge  had  been 
vouchsafed  him.  The  cries  of  the  dying,  the  fright- 
ful tumult  raised  by  this  death  orgy  of  wind  and 
sea,  instead  of  frightening  him,  sounded  in  his  ears 
like  the  most  sublime  music  he  had  ever  heard. 

As  the  doomed  ship  settled  deeper  on  the  reef,  the 
waves  broke  on  board  with  redoubled  force.  It  was 
only  a  question  of  minutes  when  the  huge  hulk 
would  begin  to  go  to  pieces.  Suddenly  there  was  a 

138 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

terrific  explosion,  the  deck  rose  under  him,  and  the 
next  thing  he  knew  he  was  in  the  sea,  battling  with 
the  waves. 

He  was  an  expert,  powerful  swimmer,  and  he 
found  himself  struggling  for  life  in  spite  of  himself. 
He  tried  to  stop  swimming,  to  let  himself  sink.  He 
could  not.  The  instinct  of  self-preservation  was  too 
strong.  So  he  swam  on,  now  resting,  now  floating. 
He  saw  nothing  of  the  ship  or  of  the  boats.  He  pre- 
sumed some  got  away.  He  heard  shouts,  but  paid 
no  heed.  Steadily  he  swam  on,  wondering  when  his 
strength  would  give  out  and  nature  would  let  him 
drown.  All  at  once  he  bumped  against  something 
soft. 

"Save  me  f"  cried  a  woman's  voice  weakly. 

Instinctively  he  put  out  his  hand  and  caught  her 
by  the  hair  just  as  she  was  going  down  for  the  sec- 
ond time.  Her  eyes  were  closed  and  her  face  pale 
as  death.  It  was  the  tall  girl  with  the  dark  eyes. 
If  she  had  not  spoken  he  would  have  thought  she 
was  dead.  Supporting  her  firmly  with  one  hand  and 
keeping  her  head  above  water,  he  swam  on.  He 
wondered  why  he  took  the  trouble.  He  would  tire 

139 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

soon  and  then  both  must  sink.  But  he  swam  on, 
with  Grace  limp,  unconscious,  half  drowned  at  his 
side.  He  felt  he  was  unable  to  stay  afloat  much 
longer.  His  left  arm  was  already  numb  from  the 
girl's  dead  weight.  Every  muscle  in  his  body  ached. 
The  end  must  soon  come.  Why  not  let  her  go  now 
and  have  done  with  it  ? 

Suddenly  he  heard  a  sound  that  gave  him  re- 
newed energy.  It  was  the  roaring  noise  of  heavy 
surf  beating  on  the  shore.  They  must  be  close  in 
land.  Another  determined  effort  and  perhaps  he 
could  get  in.  Desperately  exerting  the  last  of  his 
great  strength,  he  swam  on.  A  monster  wave  car- 
ried him  forward,  high  on  its  crest,  and  as  the  water 
retired  he  felt  sand  underneath  his  feet.  Another 
billow  carried  them  in  still  farther.  He  was  in  a 
maelstrom;  he  could  not  see;  there  was  a  rushing, 
roaring  sound  in  his  ears.  A  wave  knocked  him 
down,  and  they  were  both  nearly  suffocated  as  they 
rolled  over  and  over  in  the  boiling  water.  He  stag- 
gered to  his  feet  and  was  again  dragging  her  in 
when  a  receding  wave  snatched  them  back.  Then 
came  another  and  bigger  wave  which  threw  them 

140 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

in  again.  This  time  he  dug  his  feet  desperately  in 
the  shifting  sand,  and,  by  a  herculean  effort,  resisted 
the  deadly  suck  of  the  undertow.  The  wave  receded, 
leaving  them  still  higher.  Before  another  could 
reach  them  he  had  picked  his  unconscious  compan- 
ion up  in  his  arms,  and  staggered  up  the  beach  safe 
out  of  the  clutch  of  the  water. 


CHAPTER  IX 

DAWN  broke,  gray  and  wet.  Although  the 
storm  had  spent  its  fury  and  the  wind  had 
quieted  down  to  a  gentle  breeze,  the  sea  still 
ran  mountains  high  and  a  fine  rain  was  falling.  But 
there  was  promise  of  clearing  weather.  Low  on  the 
eastern  horizon  a  fringe  of  fiery  red  broke  through 
the  leaden  clouds,  putting  in  relief  the  water-line 
and  heralding  the  near  approach  of  sunrise.  Away 
out  yonder,  far  beyond  the  towering,  white-capped 
breakers,  protruded  the  jagged  points  of  the  treach- 
erous sunken  reef  on  which  the  ill-fated  Atlanta  had 
crashed  to  her  doom. 

Armitage  strained  his  eyes  in  every  direction  until 
they  ached.  With  the  coming  of  daylight  he  had 
expected  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  wreck ;  possibly  he 
would  see  people  still  on  board,  signaling  for  help. 
But  as  the  darkness  paled  and  he  was  able  to  distin- 
guish water  and  sky  through  the  receding  gloom,  he 
saw,  to  his  amazement,  that  the  steamer  had  com- 

142 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

pletely  disappeared.  He  perceived  pieces  of  wreck- 
age, and,  near  the  reef,  he  thought  he  spied  an  up- 
turned boat,  but  of  the  big  steamer  and  the  other 
life-boats  which  got  away  before  the  boilers  ex- 
ploded, there  was  not  a  sign.  Nothing  but  a  deso- 
late waste  of  tossing  gray  water  met  his  eyes  every- 
where. 

As  far  as  he  could  make  out  they  were  on  an  isl- 
and. He  had  no  idea  how  large  it  was,  or  if  it  was 
deserted  or  inhabited.  He  had  heard  his  shipmates 
talk  of  islands  in  the  Indian  Ocean  that  were  a  peri! 
to  navigation,  and  he  supposed  this  was  one  of  them. 
When  it  got  lighter  he  would  be  better  able  to  take 
his  bearings. 

He  was  exhausted  and  weak  after  his  long  strug- 
gle with  the  waves,  and  his  brine-soaked  clothes 
hung  heavily  on  him.  Yet  he  no  longer  looked  the 
same  man  he  had  been  on  the  ship.  The  transforma- 
tion in  his  appearance  was  startling;  the  long  swim 
had  effected  a  wonderful  change.  All  trace  of  coal- 
dust  had  disappeared  from  his  face  and  neck;  once 
more  he  was  a  white  man.  His  hands  were  cut  and 
bleeding  from  the  sharp  rocks,  and  his  body  was 

H3 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

bruised  from  head  to  foot,  but  nothing  could  con- 
ceal the  fact  that  his  bearing  had  distinction,  that  his 
head  was  well  shaped,  his  features  clean  cut,  that  he 
had  a  strong  mouth  and  a  clear  eye. 

But  he  was  supremely  unconscious  of  how  he 
looked.  He  was  desperately  hungry.  His  throat 
was  dry  and  parched.  His  brine-soaked  clothes 
hung  heavily  on  him.  His  senses  and  consciousness 
seemed  numbed.  In  truth,  he  marveled  to  find  him- 
self alive.  Why  had  he  exhausted  and  bruised 
himself  struggling  with  the  waves,  fighting  death, 
when  he  had  no  desire  to  live  ?  Yes,  he  remembered 
now.  It  was  the  girl's  fault.  She  had  cried  out  to 
him,  and  somehow,  in  spite  of  himself,  he  had 
clutched  at  her  and  saved  her  from  drowning. 
r  He  clenched  his  fists  and  muttered  an  oath  as  he 
turned  to  look  at  her.  She  was  still  lying,  appar- 
ently unconscious,  in  the  spot  where  he  had  carried 
her  after  they  both  staggered  out  of  the  jaws  of 
death,  and  fell,  exhausted,  on  the  wild,  storm-swept 
beach.  His  first  instinct  on  gaining  a  foothold  safe 
from  the  deadly  suck  of  the  thundering  breakers  had 
been  to  find  for  his  helpless  companion  some  kind 

144 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

of  shelter  from  the  wind  and  rain,  and  as  he  was 
assisting  her  over  the  slippery  stones,  green  with 
slimy  sea  grass,  they  accidentally  stumbled  across  a 
wide  opening  in  the  face  of  the  precipitous  cliff. 
Nearer  inspection  showed  it  to  be  a  deep  crevice, 
hollowed  out  of  the  solid  rock  in  past  ages  by  the 
action  of  the  water.  The  sea  had  since  receded, 
leaving  a  kind  of  cave,  of  no  great  height  or  depth, 
yet  large  enough  to  accommodate  half  a  dozen  per- 
sons. The  interior  was  dry,  while  the  thick  growth 
of  velvety  moss  underfoot  provided  a  comfortable 
couch. 

"A  shipwrecked  young  woman  couldn't  wish  for 
more  luxurious  quarters,"  muttered  Armitage  grim- 
ly to  himself,  and  after  he  had  taken  mental  note  of 
the  natural  advantages  of  the  place,  he  turned  to 
look  at  the  prostrate  girl. 

As  yet  Grace  had  given  no  sign  of  life.  Her  eyes 
were  closed  and  her  face  livid.  But  for  the  nervous 
twitching  of  her  mouth,  and  a  low  moan  which  from 
time  to  time  escaped  her  lips,  one  might  think  she 
was  dead.  Her  head  was  thrown  back  against  the 
cold,  damp  wall,  her  beautiful,  long  hair,  matted  by 

145 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

sea  water,  was  all  disheveled.  Water  ran  off  every 
part  of  her  and  formed  a  little  puddle  by  her  side. 
Her  dainty  ball-dress,  the  envy  of  every  woman  on 
board  only  a  few  hours  before,  was  in  shreds.  What 
remained  of  it,  soaked  and  discolored,  clung  closely 
to  her  figure,  revealing  to  Armitage's  gaze  outlines 
which  caused  the  blood  to  rush  tumultuously  to  his 
head.  Her  low-necked  gown,  torn  during  the  pan- 
icky rush  for  the  life-boats,  had  collapsed  entirely  at 
one  side,  exposing  part  of  the  delicately  rounded, 
blue-veined  bosom,  and  shoulders  and  arms  as  white 
and  academically  beautiful  as  if  cut  in  marble  by  the 
sculptor's  chisel. 

Armitage  stood  transfixed,  his  pulse  throbbing 
furiously,  his  heart  in  his  mouth.  For  a  moment  the 
beast  was  aroused.  His  eyes  sparkled  sensually,  in- 
coherent sounds  issued  from  between  his  clenched 
teeth.  A  kiss  on  that  gently  curved,  sensitive  mouth 
would  be  as  near  a  taste  of  heaven  as  ever  he  would 
get.  He'd  be  a  fool  to  hesitate.  They  were  alone- 
he  and  this  girl — not  a  human  being  was  within  a 
thousand  miles  of  them.  The  chances  of  rescue  were 
infinitesimal.  They  had  escaped  the  waves  only  to 

146 


NKVBK  IN  HIS  LIFK  HAD  UK  BKI1KLU  A  WOMAN  SO  FAIR. 

Pag«  147. 


die  of  starvation — that  was  certain.  If  they  must 
die — to-day — to-morrow — or  the  next  day — why 
deny  oneself  any  joy  that  the  world  still  had  to 
offer?  Thus  he  argued,  not  in  these  words,  but  in 
feverish,  unreasoning,  reckless  thought.  Boldly  he 
approached  her.  His  face  was  flushed,  his  eyes  were 
ardent  as  they  took  in  every  voluptuous  detail  of  her 
motionless  form.  He  advanced  closer,  and,  bend- 
ing over  her,  stood  for  a  moment  fascinated  by  the 

* 

sight  of  her  bare,  alabaster-like  skin  and  perfectly 
modeled  arms.  Never  in  his  life  had  he  beheld  a 
woman  so  fair. 

Suddenly  she  stirred  and  uttered  a  low  moan.  Ar- 
mitage  sprang  back  and  looked  around  guiltily.  Only 
the  screaming  sea-gulls  were  there  to  witness  his  dis- 
comfiture, yet  his  face  had  the  expression  of  one 
detected  in  an  unworthy  action.  Again  Grace 
moaned  and  stirred  as  if  in  pain.  He  stood  irreso- 
lute, embarrassed,  not  knowing  what  to  do  to  help 
her,  trying  to  feel  that  he  didn't  care,  surly  and  ill- 
tempered  because  he  felt  contempt  for  himself. 
What  was  this  woman's  suffering  to  him  ?  She  be- 
longed to  the  class  he  now  hated,  the  detested  plu- 

147 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

tocracy  upon  which  he  had  declared  war.  The 
money  she  spent  on  her  finery  and  pleasures  was  no 
doubt  gotten  by  cheating  such  poor  fellows  as  he 
out  of  their  rights.  Let  her  have  her  share  of  hard 
knocks.  He  chuckled  to  himself  as  he  reflected  on 
life's  ironies.  Only  a  few  brief  hours  ago,  on  the 
luxuriously  appointed  liner,  she  was  everything,  he 
was  nothing.  She  was  the  grand  lady,  the  pampered 
cabin  passenger;  he  was  the  despised  stoker,  hardly 
to  be  counted  among  human  beings.  Suddenly  what 
an  astounding  revolution !  A  cataclysm,  and  all  was 
changed — distinctions  of  birth,  education,  and  wealth 
were  instantly  abolished.  Now  they  were  merely 
two  helpless  human  beings  cast  away  on  a  deserted 
island  in  the  lonely  mid-ocean,  one  dependent  upon 
the  other,  one  no  better  than  the  other.  They  had 
returned  to  primeval  conditions.  In  what  way  was 
she  his  superior  now? 

Thus  arguing  to  himself,  he  took  fresh  courage 
and  drew  nearer.  She  was  certainly  pretty,  there 
was  no  getting  away  from  that,  and  he — was  a  man ! 

Lying  there,  pale,  soaked,  bedraggled,  Grace 
looked  the  picture  of  utter  misery.  Of  the  artificial 

148 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

aids  to  good  looks  which  women  in  their  vanity  love 
to  employ,  not  one  remained,  yet  even  with  every  ad- 
junct of  self-adornment  gone  she  was  still  beautiful. 
The  exuberant  spirits  and  pride  of  bearing  were  no 
longer  there,  only  a  sad,  wistful,  pallid  loveliness 
that  was  even  more  potent  in  its  appeal  than  the 
radiant,  gay,  fashionably  gowned,  proud  beauty  who 
had  attracted  his  gaze  when,  from  his  place  of  con- 
cealment among  the  ventilators,  he  had  gloomily 
watched  the  brilliant  scene  on  the  promenade-deck. 
She  made  no  attempt  to  move.  Still  stunned  by 
the  awful  calamity  which  had  so  swiftly  overtaken 
the  steamer,  her  ears  still  ringing  with  the  despair- 
ing cries  of  her  friends  as  they  were  swept  to  their 
deaths,  her,  brain  was  a  blank.  She  could  not  think 
or  reason.  Every  sense  seemed  paralyzed.  She 
felt  no  sensations  of  hunger  or  thirst.  She  was  sur- 
prised to  find  herself  still  alive.  All  she  remem- 
bered was  the  terrible  explosion,  the  frenzied  scram- 
ble for  the  boats,  and  then  all  at  once  she  found  her- 
self in  the  water,  swimming,  trying  to  keep  herself 
afloat.  How  she  reached  the  shore  she  did  not 
know.  A  man  had  caught  her  as  she  was  sinking, 

149 


BY  RIG  PIT  OF  CONQUEST 

and  in  a  vague  sort  of  way  she  thought  he  was  one 
of  the  crew.  She  wondered  where  she  was  and  why 
her  body  ached  so.  The  air  chilled  her  bare  shoul- 
ders. She  shivered,  moaned,  and  opened  her  eyes. 

"Are  you  hurt  ?"  he  asked,  advancing. 

This  abrupt  breaking  of  the  long  silence  by  the 
sound  of  a  human  voice  seemed  strange  to  her.  She 
thought  she  was  dreaming,  and  she  smiled  faintly 
at  the  absurdity  of  it. 

"Are  you  hurt?"  he  demanded,  again  stooping 
over  her. 

She  turned  her  gaze  wonderingly  on  Armitage. 
In  the  uncertain  light  it  was  difficult  to  get  a  good 
view  of  his  face.  He  seemed  a  stranger  to  her. 
From  him,  her  eyes  wandered  inquiringly  round 
the  cave. 

"Where  am  I  ?"  she  asked,  in  a  low  voice. 

"On  an  island,"  he  replied  shortly.  "The  steam- 
er's lost.  Only  you  and  I  were  saved." 

She  turned  white,  and  her  breath  came  and  went 
quickly.  Then  she  caught  sight  of  her  torn  gown, 
and  quickly  she  covered  herself  modestly,  a  faint 
flush  overspreading  her  pale  face.  She  continued 

150 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

to  stare  at  Armitage,  as  if  he  reminded  her  of  some 
one  she  had  seen  before.  Puzzled,  she  passed  her 
hand  over  her  eyes  as  if  trying  to  remember. 

"Who  are  you?"  she  said  finally.  "Where  have  I 
seen  you  before?" 

He  shifted  uneasily  on  his  feet  and  looked  away, 
avoiding  her  scrutiny.  Why  should  she  know  that 
he  had  been  one  of  the  poor  devils  in  the  stoke-hole  ? 
Perhaps  she  already  recognized  him  as  the  desertei 
who  was  so  unceremoniously  dragged  on  board  ship 
in  New  York  Harbor.  Gruffly  he  answered : 

"I  was  swimming.  I  heard  you  cry  out  I 
brought  you  in — that's  all." 

"You  were  one  of  the  crew  ?" 

He  nodded. 

"Yes — one  of  the  crew." 

"How  can  I  thank  you !"  she  exclaimed.  "My  fa- 
ther is  rich.  He  will  reward  you." 

He  laughed  harshly. 

"Money  isn't  much  good  here.  You  don't  realize 
where  we  are.  Every  one's  gone  but  we — all  are 
drowned.  We're  as  good  as  dead.  We're  a  thou- 
sand miles  from  the  mainland — with  no  means  of 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST. 

getting  away  and  no  food.  There's  little  chance  of 
being  sighted  by  a  passing  ship,  for  the  storm  had 
blown  us  out  of  the  regular  steamer  track."  Bru- 
tally, he  added :  "You  might  as  well  understand  the 
situation.  Death  by  starvation  stares  us  in  the 
face." 

Grace  interrupted  him  by  an  outburst  of  hysterical 
weeping.  Weakened  physically  by  exertion  and  ex- 
posure, her  nerves  overwrought  by  terror  and  sus- 
pense, little  wonder  that  at  last  she  gave  way.  She 
sobbed  like  a  child,  a  piteous  passion  of  tears  that 
would  have  melted  a  heart  of  stone.  She  didn't  care 
for  herself.  She  was  ready  to  die.  But  she  was 
sorry  for  Daddy  and  her  poor  mother.  They  would 
grieve  for  her  and  it  would  break  their  hearts.  She 
shuddered  as  she  thought  of  the  shocking  fate  which 
had  befallen  her  recent  companions  on  the  ship. 

"Perhaps  some  of  them  got  away  in  the  boats," 
she  gasped  between  her  tears. 

"Maybe  they  did,"  he  replied,  with  an  indifferent 
shrug  of  his  shoulders.  With  a  gesture  of  impa- 
tience he  added  curtly :  "It's  no  use  crying.  That 
won't  3o  any  good.  What  you  need  most  is  to  get 

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BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

out  of  those  wet  clothes.     You're  soaked  to  the 
skin." 

"I  have  no  others  to  put  on,"  ruefully  she  replied, 
making  an  effort  to  sit  up  and  squeezing  the  water 
out  of  her  skirt.     She  thought  with  dismay  of  all 
her  precious  belongings  forever  lost  at  the  bottom 
of  the  sea.    Fortunately,  her  pearls  were  saved.  The 
necklace  was  still  round  her  throat. 
£   "Look!"  she  said,  holding  the  necklace  up  so  he 
could  see  it.     "At  least  we  have  these.    They  are 
worth  $40,000." 
ii    He  laughed  derisively. 

"They're  worth  nothing  where  there's  no  one  to 
buy  them,"  he  growled.  Then,  impatiently,  he  said : 
"Don't  waste  your  time  bothering  about  that.  What 
you  want  to  do  is  to  take  those  clothes  off  right 
away.  Then  you'll  dry  them  and  put  them  on  again. 
You  can't  remain  any  longer  in  wet  clothes." 

He  spoke  authoritatively,  with  the  commanding 
air  of  one  who  intends  to  be  obeyed.  She  was  in 
no  mood  to  argue  the  matter.  Besides,  he  was  right. 
She  was  already  chilled  and  ran  the  danger  of  get- 
ting pneumonia  unless  she  dried  her  clothes  quickly  ; 

153 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

but  how  could  she  change  them — with  no  fire  to  dry 
her  things  and  with  this  man  coming  in  and  out? 
He  saw  her  embarrassment  and  intuitively  guessed 
the  reason.  He  was  still  in  the  shadow,  but  she  fan- 
cied she  noticed  a  covert  smile  hovering  about  his 
mouth,  and  she  immediately  took  a  dislike  to  him,  in 
spite  of  the  service  he  had  rendered  her.  His  man- 
ner was  overbearing — almost  insolent.  Again,  there 
was  something  about  him  that  reminded  her  of  a 
man  she  had  known  or  seen,  but  still  she  could  not 
remember.  Turning  to  her,  he  said  gruffly : 

"I'm  fairly  well  soaked  myself.  While  you're 
changing  I'll  go  and  take  a  run  along  the  sands 
and  dry  my  clothes  in  the  sun.  Before  I  go  I'll  light 
a  fire  for  you  to  dry  your  clothes  on." 

He  produced  from  his  pocket  a  small  box  wrapped 
in  oilskin.  Opening  it,  he  held  up  three  lucifer 
matches,  and,  grimly,  he  said: 

"These  are  worth  more  to  us  than  your  pearls. 
See — there  are  only  three  left,  and  they're  as  dry 
as  when  I  left  the  ship.  I'm  going  to  light  a  fire  just 
outside  there,  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff.  Once  lighted, 
the  fire  must  never  be  allowed  to  go  out.  It  must 

154 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

burn  night  and  day.  It  will  keep  us  warm  and  cook 
our  food.  I'll  start  the  fire ;  you'll  keep  it  going  with 
what  small  pieces  of  wood  you  can  gather.  Do  you 
understand  ?" 

Grace  was  taken  aback.  For  a  moment  she  was 
speechless  with  indignation.  This  man,  this  com- 
mon sailor,  was  actually  giving  her  a  command,  tell- 
ing her  to  do  menial  work,  and  admonishing  her  to 
do  it  properly,  as  if  she  were  a  domestic  servant. 
Her  first  impulse  was  to  rebel  and  order  him  angrily 
from  her  presence.  On  second  thoughts,  she  said 
nothing.  After  all,  he  was  right.  She  ought  to  be 
willing  to  do  her  share.  They  were  no  longer  on 
the  ship  where  she  had  only  to  touch  a  button  and  a 
dozen  maids  and  stewards  ran  to  obey  her  slightest 
whim.  Although  reared  in  luxury,  and  petted  and 
indulged  since  her  birth,  she  was  not  a  fool.  She 
was  quick  to  realize  that  conditions  had  changed 
and  that  their  respective  social  positions — hers  and 
this  sailor's — were  now  completely  reversed.  She 
was  dependent  on  him,  not  he  on  her.  If  she  were 
to  be  saved,  it  would  be  thanks  to  his  resourceful- 
ness, his  courage.  Her  money  would  be  of  no  use 

155 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

here.  He  alone  could  protect  and  save  her,  so  why 
quarrel  with  him.  Docilely,  therefore,  she  replied: 

"Yes— I  understand." 

Armitage  left  her  alone  in  the  cave,  and,  pro- 
ceeding along  the  silvery  sands,  set  hastily  to  work 
to  gather  together  the  scattered  driftwood.  The 
beach  was  strewn  for  miles  with  the  flotsam  and  jet- 
sam of  countless  tides,  an  accumulation  that  appar- 
ently had  been  undisturbed  for  centuries.  Much  of 
it  was  moldy  with  age  and,  well  protected  from  the 
rains  by  overhanging  rocks,  was  dry  as  tinder. 

"This  stuff'll  make  a  bully  blaze,"  he  muttered 
cheerfully  to  himself. 

He  toiled  with  a  will,  glad  of  the  brisk  exercise  to 
take  the  kinks  out  of  his  numbed  limbs.  The  sun 
was  now  high  above  the  horizon,  and  its  warm  rays 
.  felt  grateful  after  the  chill  of  the  stormy  night.  Di- 
rectly he  had  started  the  fire,  he'd  leave  the  girl  to 
change  her  clothes  and  go  himself  where  he  could 
take  a  rub-down  and  lay  out  his  own  things  to  dry. 
Then  he'd  take  a  run  along  the  coast  and  climb  the 
cliff  to  see  what  sort  of  a  place  this  was  they  had 
landed  on.  He  felt  a  sense  of  relief  that  he  was  no 

156 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

longer  subjected  to  the  discipline  and  restraint  of 
the  ship. 

j:  He  chuckled  to  himself  as  his  mind  dwelt  on  the 
disaster  that  had  emancipated  him.  His  taskmasters 
were  no  longer  there  to  torment  him — all  were 
drowned  or  gone  away  in  the  boats.  Once  more  he 
was  a  free  man.  At  last  he  could  raise  his  head. 
To  the  others  the  wreck  had  been  an  overwhelming 
calamity!  to  him  it  meant  salvation.  No  matter 
what  the  future  had  in  store,  no  matter  what  priva- 
tions he  must  suffer  on  this  island — even  if  he  must 
soon  perish — anything  was  better  than  the  torture 
he  had  endured  in  that  hellish  stoke-hole. 

In  a  way,  he  felt  sorry  for  the  girl.  Evidently  she 
was  not  used  to  roughing  it.  It  would  be  harder  for 
her  than  for  him.  She  seemed  inclined  to  be 
haughty,  he  thought.  He  had  noticed  the  proud  toss 
of  her  head  when  he  spoke  about  her  attending  to 
the  fire.  He  smiled  grimly.  She  didn't  like  that. 
Well,  that  was  the  fault  of  her  bringing  up.  How 
could  a  girl,  raised  as  she'd  been,  be  expected  to  do 
anything  useful?  Such  girls  were  only  the  butter- 
flies of  life — of  no  particular  use  except  to  look 


pretty.  It  wouldn't  do  her  any  harm  to  learn  a 
thing  or  two.  Apart  from  that,  she  seemed  all  right. 
In  fact,  he  was  not  sorry  she'd  been  saved  to  share 
his  solitude.  His  hour  had  not  come  to  die,  that  was 
sure;  otherwise  he'd  have  been  drowned  with  the 
rest.  As  long  as  he  had  to  be  cast  away  on  this 
barren  islet  it  was  as  well  that  he  had  a  companion. 
Of  course,  she  wouldn't  be  much  use  if  it  came  to 
real  hardships — procuring  food,  fighting  off  attacks 
of  animals  or  reptiles,  or  building  a  boat  to  get  away 
— but  she  was  a  beauty,  a  prize-winner,  no  mistake 
about  that.  Again  his  eyes  gleamed  as  his  mind 
dwelt  upon  what  had  been  revealed  to  him  in  the 
cave — a  torn  dress,  a  white,  soft  neck,  a  soaked 
dress  showing  limbs  like  sculptured  marble,  a  curved 
mouth,  tempting  enough  to  inflame  a  saint.  Fast 
and  furiously  he  worked,  strange  thoughts  crowding 
upon  each  other  in  his  brain. 

Soon  he  had  gathered  a  big  pile  of  driftwood,  and 
had  it  all  ready  for  lighting.  He  rubbed  his  hands 
with  satisfaction.  They'd  soon  have  a  blaze  that 
could  be  seen  fifty  miles  out  at  sea.  Taking  from  his 
pocket  once  more  the  little  box,  he  unwrapped  the 

158 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

oilskin  and  took  out  one  of  the  three  precious 
matches.  Then,  with  infinite  precautions,  stooping 
and  covering  the  tiny  flicker  with  one  hand  to  pro- 
tect it  from  the  wind,  he  applied  the  light.  Only  one 
match  was  necessary.  Owing  to  the  extreme  dry- 
ness  of  the  wood,  the  pile  caught  instantly.  A  thick 
column  of  smoke  rose  to  the  sky,  followed  by  a 
sharp  crackling  and  long  tongue  of  flame.  More 
wood  and  more  he  kept  piling  on  until  he  had  be- 
fore him  a  roaring  furnace.  Pleased  with  the  quick 
result,  he  shouted  to  Grace,  who  was  still  inside  the 
cave. 

"See  here.  You'll  soon  dry  yourself  by  this  fire !" 
Grace  appeared  at  the  mouth  of  the  cave.  Busy 
tending  to  the  fire,  his  back  turned  toward  the  cliff, 
he  did  not  see  her  suddenly  recoil  as  she  perceived 
him,  nor  the  expression  of  consternation  and  terror 
that  came  into  her  pale,  wan  face.  As  he  stood  there 
full  in  the  strong  light  of  the  roaring  fire,  she  saw 
the  face  of  her  rescuer  distinctly  for  the  first  time. 
She  saw  vividly  a  picture  she  had  seen  once  before 
on  the  ill-fated  ship — the  handsome  profile  of  a  man 
bending  low  over  a  glowing  furnace,  with  the  shoul- 

159 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

ders  and  muscles  of  a  Hercules,  and  the  head  and 
grace  of  a  Greek  god.  Transfixed,  her  bosom  heav- 
ing, she  stood  rooted  to  the  ground.  Now  she  re- 
membered !  Now  she  knew  him !  He  was  the  fire- 
man Armitage — the  terrible  man  of  the  Atlanta's 
stoke-hole.  She  was  alone  on  the  island — with  that 
terrible  man! 


ibo 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  rest  of  that  morning,  Grace,  to  her  intense 
relief,  saw  little  of  the  man  into  whose  ab- 
horrent company  she  had  been  so  strangely 
and  unceremoniously  thrown.  Once  the  fire  was 
well  started  Armitage  had  disappeared,  leaving  her 
in  privacy  to  attend  to  her  immediate  needs.  For 
this  much  consideration  she  felt  grateful  to  him. 
But,  after  she  had  dried  her  clothes  and  had  time  to 
realize  her  terrible  situation,  she  was  overwhelmed 
by  the  hopeless  horror  of  it.  Her  faculties  well- 
nigh  paralyzed,  her  nerves  shattered  almost  to  the 
point  of  total  collapse,  she  sank  down  on  a  rock  un- 
der the  frowning  cliffs,  and,  looking  helplessly  out 
over  the  vast  and  now  peaceful  sea,  started  to  take 
mental  stock  of  the  extraordinary  predicament  in 
which  she  suddenly  found  herself. 

Things  had  happened  so  quickly  that  she  had  no 
time  for  reflection.  Bad  as  the  situation  had  been 
before,  it  was  ten  times  worse  now.  To  think  that 

161 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

she  should  be  perched  on  a  lonely  island  hundreds 
of  miles  from  civilization,  without  any  means  of 
communicating  with  the  outside  world,  alone  with 
that  man — and  such  a  man ! 

Her  heart  sank  as  she  remembered  all  the  dreadful 
things  she  had  heard  about  him  on  the  ship.  It  was 
surely  calamity  enough  to  be  shipwrecked  and  cast 
away  on  a  stupid  little  island  without  food,  shelter, 
or  clothes,  but  how  much  more  serious  was  the  situ- 
ation when  the  only  other  human  being  to  be  saved 
beside  herself  was  the  worst  character  on  board. 
The  first  revelation  of  his  identity  was  such  a  shock 
to  her  nervous  system  that  she  nearly  swooned,  her 
brain  reeled,  she  thought  she  would  go  insane  with 
terror. 

She  tried  to  calm  herself.  At  tHe  worst,  she 
argued  philosophically,  he  could  only  kill  her  and 
throw  her  body  into  the  sea.  Not  that  she  could 
look  forward  to  such  a  fate  with  equanimity.  She 
gulped  down  a  hysterical  sob  as  she  pictured  her 
splendid  form  and  tender  young  flesh  providing  a 
toothsome  meal  for  some  rapacious  shark,  and  she 
wondered  if  the  world — particularly  her  own  set — 

162 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

would  care  when  they  read  in  the  sensational  Sun- 
day papers  all  the  horrible  details  of  her  dreadful 
end.  Yet  why,  after  all,  should  this  man — this  ogre 
— kill  her?  Her  pearls  didn't  tempt  him.  Hadn't 
he  scoffed  at  them  just  now  ?  Then  her  face  blanched 
and  she  dug  her  manicured  nails  deep  into  her  skin 
as  she  thought  of  a  worse  fate  than  death  that  could 
overtake  her.  She  had  read  and  heard  of  such 
things — hadn't  Professor  Hanson,  during  their  talks 
on  shipboard,  conceived  this  very  situation  ? 

She  wondered  how  she  could  protect  herself  and 
what  attitude  she  should  adopt  toward  this  man.  An 
open  rupture  would  never  do;  she  must  not  even 
show  distrust  of  him.  Only  she  must  be  constantly 
on  her  guard.  All  these  thoughts  were  rushing 
through  her  brain  when  it  suddenly  occurred  to  her 
that  she  was  hungry.  What  was  more  natural  ?  The 
last  thing  she  had  eaten  was  the  plate  of  ice  cream 
brought  to  her  during  the  dance  by  Count  von  Hatz- 
feld.  Since  then  nothing  but  sea  water  had  passed 
her  lips. 

A  feeling  of  faintness  came  over  her,  and  soon 
her  dread  of  Armitage  gave  her  less  anxiety  than 

163 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

her  speculations  regarding  the  problem  of  procuring 
food.  She  was  desperately  hungry.  Perhaps  if  she 
walked  along  the  shore  she  could  pick  up  some  shell- 
fish— oysters,  or  perhaps  some  crabs.  She  thought 
pensively  of  the  delicious  crab  meat  a  la  Newburg, 
served  in  chafing-dish,  which  was  one  of  the  culinary 
delights  of  Sherry's  delightful  little  after-the-theater 
suppers,  and,  closing  her  eyes,  she  gave  a  sigh  of 
despair.  Then,  catching  a  glimpse  of  her  water- 
stained,  tattered  gown,  she  could  not  help  laughing 
in  spite  of  her  misery.  The  idea  of  her  traipsing 
along  the  sands  in  a  decollete  ball-dress  struck  her 
as  ludicrously  incongruous.  She  must  find  some- 
thing else  to  wear,  but  what? 

She  wondered  where  Armitage  had  gone  and  why 
he  stayed  so  long  away.  Perhaps  he  would  never 
come  back.  Then,  surely,  she  would  perish  miser- 
ably alone.  It  needed  a  man's  strength  and  re- 
sourcefulness to  ensure  an  existence  in  such  a  wild, 
deserted  spot.  What  could  she,  a  frail  woman,  do 
alone  to  get  food  and  devise  some  way  of  escape? 
Unconsciously,  she  already  missed  her  companion. 
Without  realizing  it,  she  admitted  his  superiority 

164 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

in  the  new  conditions  the  shipwreck  had  brought 
about. 

Suddenly  she  heard  a  shout,  and,  turning  quickly, 
she  saw  him  coming  along  the  beach  carrying  some- 
thing in  his  hands.  She  advanced  toward  him,  pre- 
serving a  cold,  indifferent  exterior,  but  glad  secretly 
that  he  had  returned.  After  all,  he  was  a  human 
being,  some  one  she  could  talk  to.  Had  she  alone 
been  saved,  to  live  alone  on  this  island,  she  would 
have  gone  mad.  As  she  watched  him  approach  she 
wondered  why  she  had  not  recognized  him  at  first. 
It  was  the  same  tall,  splendidly  proportioned  figure, 
the  same  dark,  wavy  hair,  closely  cropped,  the  same 
regular  features,  and  bold,  defiant  toss  of  the  head. 
Yes,  she  saw  the  reason  why.  His  face  was  clean 
and  white  now,  whereas  on  shipboard  she  had  never 
seen  it  any  other  way  than  grimy  and  covered  with 
coal-dust.  The  involuntary  bath  had  effected  a 
wonderful  transformation.  He  was  decidedly  hand- 
some. As  he  came  along  at  a  quick,  swinging  gait 
she  wondered  why  such  a  fine  fellow  should  have 
sunk  so  low  as  to  be  obliged  to  become  a  common 
stoker. 

165 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"I  have  your  breakfast  here !"  he  called  out  cheer- 
ily, as  he  came  in  earshot.  "I  guess  you're  ready 
for  it." 

She  reddened,  and  stammered  a  confused  reply. 

"Here's  some  fresh  water,"  he  said,  as  he  came 
up  to  her.  Holding  out  a  huge  scallop-shell  filled 
with  water,  he  went  on :  "You  can  drink  it  safely. 
I've  found  a  spring  in  the  hills  away  yonder.  It's 
clear  as  crystal." 

Grace  drank  greedily,  murmuring  her  thanks. 

"It's  delicious !"  she  gasped  between  gulps. 

He  gave  a  grunt  of  satisfaction. 

"I  picked  up  the  shell  along  the  beach,"  he  said. 
"It  doesn't  make  a  bad  drinking-cup.  We'll  find 
it  useful.  Mind  you  don't  lose  it." 

Again  that  tone  of  command  which  had  irritated 
her  before.  She  looked  up  angrily,  but  he  was  pay- 
ing no  attention  to  her.  Putting  his  hand  in  his 
pocket  he  brought  out  some  mango  fruit  and  offered 
it  to  her. 

"Here's  something  you  can  break  your  fast  with. 

There's  plenty  of  it  growing  hereabouts.    There  are 

166 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

limes  and  cocoanuts,  too,  for  the  picking.  When  I 
get  my  tackle  fixed,  I  shall  be  able  to  catch  some 
fish." 

He  threw  himself  down  on  the  sloping  beach  as 
though  weary  after  the  long  exploring  tour,  and, 
picking  up  a  splinter  of  wood,  he  started  to  draw 
lines  on  the  sand. 

Grace,  busy  eating,  her  white  teeth  biting  hun- 
grily into  the  luscious  fruit,  watched  him  without 
speaking.  His  abrupt  manner  intimidated  her.  She 
was  afraid  of  him,  and  the  realization  of  her  own 
utter  helplessness  only  served  to  make  her  more 
nervous.  Finally,  summoning  up  courage,  she  asked : 

"What  did  you  see — could  you  make  out  where 
we  are?" 

He  looked  up  and  nodded.  Then,  with  his  bit  of 
wood,  he  began  to  draw  in  the  soft  sand  a  diagram 
of  their  position.  Carelessly  he  said : 

"We're  on  an  island  about  ten  miles  long  by 
about  three  miles  wide.  It  seems  to  be  of  volcanic 
origin  and  uninhabited.  The  land  is  low  and  swampy 
in  parts,  with  a  lot  of  thick  brushwood,  but  there's 
a  big  hill  on  which  we  can  build  a  signal  fire." 

167 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"What  are  our  chances  of  being  sighted  and  taken 
off?"  she  interrupted  eagerly. 

"Decidedly  slim,  I  should  say,"  was  his  laconic 
rejoinder. 

Grace  stopped  eating,  and  a  look  of  dismay  over- 
spread her  face.  He  continued : 

"You  see  we're  far  out  of  the  regular  steamship 
track.  Not  being  down  on  the  chart,  navigators 
probably  never  heard  of  this  island.  Our  only  hope 
is  in  the  whalers.  These  waters  are  full  of  whales, 
and  whaling-vessels  come  here  after  them  from  all 
parts  of  the  world.  Some  no  doubt  land  here  to  re- 
plenish their  supply  of  fresh  water.  Or  a  passing 
whaler  may  sight  our  fire." 

"How  long  will  we  have  to  wait  ?"  she  demanded 
anxiously. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  if  the  length  of  their 
enforced  sojourn  on  the  island  were  a  matter  of  no 
concern  to  him.  Indifferently  he  replied : 

"One  can't  tell.  Three  months — six  months — a 
year!" 

"A  year !"  gasped  Grace.  "How  could  I  live  here 
a  year,  or  even  six  months — I  should  go  mad." 

168 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

He  smiled  grimly. 

"Oh,  we  get  accustomed  to  most  anything  when 
we  have  to.  I  wasn't  overfond  of  the  job  I  had  on 
the  ship,  but  I  had  to  knuckle  down  to  it  all  the  same. 
We  don't  always  get  things  the  way  we  want  them, 
do  we?" 

She  ignored  the  rebuke,  too  much  perturbed  at  the 
gloomy  prospect  he  held  out.  Nor  did  she  notice 
that  this  was  the  first  allusion  he  had  made  to  his 
work  in  the  stoke-hold. 

"Even  a  month  would  seem  like  a  century,"  she 
went  on  almost  hysterically.     "Is  there  no  possible 
way  of  reaching  the  mainland?" 
t    He  shook  his  head. 

•     "The  nearest  land  is  a  good  eight  hundred  miles 
away.    We  have  no  boat — no  compass " 

"Oh,  what  can  we  do?  What  can  we  do?"  she 
wailed,  pacing  to  and  fro,  swinging  her  hands. 

"Make  the  best  of  it,  I  should  say,"  he  replied 
coolly.  There  was  the  suggestion  of  a  smile  hover- 
ing around  his  mouth,  and  his  eyes  were  full  on  her 
as  he  added:  "I'm  in  no  particular  hurry  to  get 
away  myself." 

169 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

She  saw  the  covert  smile  and  the  boldness  of  his 
glance,  and  it  aroused  her  resentment.  Forgetting 
her  caution  she  turned  angrily  on  him. 

"Of  course,  you  don't  care.  Why  should  you? 
You  find  there's  plenty  here  to  eat  and  nothing  to 
do.  That  kind  of  life  suits  you  better,  no  doubt, 
than  having  to  earn  a  living  by  hard  work.  You've 
no  friends  who  are  mourning  for  you,  no  father  or 
mother  grieving  over  your  supposed  death.  So  long 
as  you  can  enjoy  creature  comforts  without  paying 
for  them,  you  are  satisfied  to  stay  here  forever.  But 
with  me  it's  different.  My  life  has  not  been  like 
yours.  You  ought  to  realize  that.  What  may  seem 
like  comfort  and  all  that  is  necessary  to  you,  is  tor- 
ture and  starvation  to  me.  You  ought  to  be  able 
to  see  that!  You  ought!  You  ought!" 

She  stopped,  her  face  red  from  excitement,  her 
bosom  heaving,  her  voice  choking  with  sobs. 

Taken  aback  at  the  vehemence  of  her  hysterical 
outburst,  he  simply  looked  at  her,  admiring  her 
flashing,  dark  eyes,  fascinated  by  her  beauty.  He 
did  not  care  what  she  said,  although  she  had  spoken 
as  a  woman  might  to  her  lackey.  Her  words  were 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

•"*• 

stinging,  her  tone  contemptuous.  She  had  given 
him  plainly  to  understand  that  she  was  fashioned 
of  entirely  different  clay.  When  forced  to  it  by  cir- 
cumstances she  might,  when  thirsty,  share  his  cup. 
She  might,  when  hungry,  accept  part  of  his  food, 
but  aside  from  the  satisfying  of  these  elemental 
human  desires,  he  and  she  had  naught  in  common. 
He  must  understand  that  plainly. 

"She's  dead  right,"  he  said  to  himself.  Socially 
they  were  separated  by  the  widest  gulf  imaginable. 
Even  with  him  to  attend  to  her  wants  she  would  be 
as  much  alone  on  this  island  as  if  he  were  not  there. 
A  common  stoker  was  hardly  fit  to  breathe  the  same 
air  as  a  girl  who  was  heiress  to  millions,  accustomed 
to  all  the  refinements  of  wealth. 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  silence.  His 
face  flushed  and  his  lips  moved  as  if  he  were  about 
to  make  some  angry  retort.  With  a  visible  effort 
he  mastered  himself,  and,  turning  on  his  heel,  he 
walked  slowly  away. 

Grace's  first  impulse  was  to  recall  him.  Only  her 
pride  prevented  her  running  after  him.  Already  she 
regretted  her  hasty  words.  She  would  have  given 

171 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

almost  anything  to  unsay  them.  She  had  not  in- 
tended to  be  discourteous  to  this  man.  Whatever  his 
character  might  be,  however  low  he  might  be  in  the 
social  scale,  he  had  rendered  her  a  service  she  could 
never  repay.  He  had  saved  her  life.  Yet,  thought- 
lessly, needlessly,  she  had  hurt  his  feelings.  What 
utter  folly  it  was  to  boast  of  her  social  position  in 
her  present  predicament.  She  thought  with  bitter- 
ness how  little  her  culture  and  education  could  help 
her  now.  Their  situation  was  precarious  enough 
without  making  matters  worse  by  senseless  bicker- 
ings. 

Wearily  she  sank  down  on  a  rock,  angry  with  her- 
self, apprehensive  of  the  consequences  of  her  speech. 
She  had  had  reason  to  fear  him  before ;  by  her  own 
foolishness  the  rupture  was  now  definite.  This  new 
misunderstanding  would  certainly  add  to  her  dis- 
comfort and  perhaps  lessen  her  chances  of  escaping 
from  this  worst  of  horrors — a  living  death ! 

Looking  out  to  sea,  she  strained  her  eyes  in  every 
direction  in  the  hope  of  catching  a  glimpse  of  some 
vessel  which  to  her  would  mean  safety  and  home. 
The  thick  black  smoke  from  the  fire  Armrtage  had 

172 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

started  was  still  rising  in  a  straight  column  to  the 
sky.  If  there  happened  along  a  craft  of  any  de- 
scription their  signal  could  not  fail  to  be  seen.  But 
her  tired  eyes  swept  the  horizon  in  vain.  There  was 
not  a  speck  on  the  vast  expanse  of  shimmering  blue 
to  give  her  the  slightest  encouragement.  Her  heart 
sank  within  her.  All  signs  of  the  recent  hurricane 
had  disappeared.  Once  more  Nature  was  in  holiday 
garb.  The  ocean  reflected  the  turquoise-blue  of  the 
cloudless  heavens ;  the  air,  gently  stirred  by  a  balmy 
breeze,  was  fragrant  with  the  odor  of  spices.  There 
was  no  trace  of  the  wreck  or  of  the  missing  life- 
boats. The  ocean  had  completely  engulfed  the 
steamship.  What  the  fate  of  the  other  passengers, 
officers,  and  crew  had  been  could  only  be  matter 
of  conjecture. 

"God  grant  that  they  got  safely  away,"  she  mur- 
mured fervently  to  herself.  "Perhaps  they  will  be 
picked  up  by  some  ship  and  then  they  may  come  in 
search  of  me — unless  they  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  I'm  dead.  I  might  just  as  well  be  dead  as 
here." 

She  was  still  ravenously  hungry.    The  little  fruit 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

she  bad  eaten  bad  not  satisfied  ber  and  she  did  not 
know  where  to  go  to  look  for  more.  She  wondered 
if  she  had  made  him  so  angry  that  he  would  entirely 
desert  her  and  leave  her  to  starve.  With  a  shudder 
she  thought  of  other  terrors  in  store  for  her.  What 
about  the  coming  night? 

The  afternoon  was  rapidly  advancing;  before  very 
long  the  sun  would  set  and  what  then  ?  How  could 
she  face  the  coming  darkness  alone  with  that  man 
whom  she  had  angered  and  with  all  the  unknown 
terrors  the  island  contained  ?  Almost  panic-stricken 
from  sheer  nervousness  and  anxiety,  utterly  discour- 
aged and  miserable,  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands 
and  burst  into  tears. 

Suddenly  she  heard  a  footstep,  and,  looking  up, 
she  saw  Armitage  approaching.  He  was  making 
only  slow  progress,  being  weighted  down  with  some 
heavy  object 

"Here's  a  prize !"  he  shouted,  as  he  came  nearer. 

Staggering  up  to  near  where  she  stood  he  set 
down  a  huge  iron  pot 

"I  spied  it  lying  among  the  drift  along  the  shore," 
ht  went  on,  "It's  a  bit  rusty,  but  that'll  scrape  off. 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

It's  worth  its  weight  in  gold  to  us.     We've  some- 
thing to  cook  in  now." 

He  spoke  cheerily,  with  the  utmost  frankness.  If 
he  still  nourished  any  resentment  his  manner  did  not 
betray  it.  In  her  present  state  of  depression  Grace 
would  have  welcomed  the  apparition  of  Satan  him- 
self. She  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  her  joy  at  his 
return.  Clapping  her  hands  with  childish  enthu- 
siasm, she  cried : 

"Oh,  isn't  it  perfectly  lovely!" 

At  home  she  had  never  been  inside  a  kitchen.  It 
is  indeed  doubtful  if  she  knew  what  a  culinary  uten- 
sil looked  like.  Perhaps  it  had  never  occurred  to  her 
that  the  kettle  and  many  other  things  as  humble  are 
all  indispensable  parts  in  our  civilization.  But  now 
she  understood.  Necessity  is  a  quick  teacher  and 
Grace  was  learning.  The  pot  was  an  ordinary  tripod 
affair,  battered  and  rusty.  Judging  from  its  appear- 
ance, it  had  fallen  overboard  from  some  ship  and 
had  floated  ashore.  Otherwise  it  was  sound  and 
serviceable.  She  could  see  that  its  value  to  them  was 
well-nigh  inestimable. 

175 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"That's  splendid — that's  bully !"  she  repeated  ex- 
citedly. 

He  enjoyed  her  enthusiasm.  It  was  the  first  time 
he  had  seen  her  smile,  and  it  looked  good  to  him. 
He  chuckled  to  himself  as  he  said : 

"But  that  isn't  all.  A  pot  with  nothing  to  put  in 
it  isn't  much  use.  I've  brought  you  something  good 
to  eat." 

Plunging  his  hand  into  the  pot  he  brought  out 
half  a  dozen  live  crabs  and  threw  them  at  her  feet. 

"Aren't  they  beauties?"  he  exclaimed.  "I'll  bet 
they'll  taste  dandy,  too.  Look  out!  Mind  they  don't 
nip  your  fingers  with  their  claws.  They're  pretty 
lively.  They  bite  like  the  mischief." 

Grace's  mouth  was  already  watering  : 

"What  shall  I  do  with  them?"  she  asked  help- 
lessly. 

"Cook  'em,  of  course,"  he  replied,  with  a  grin. 
"You  get  them  ready  while  I  go  and  fetch  some  wa- 
ter." 

She  listened  in  consternation,  not  liking  to  tell  him 
she  did  not  know  how  to  cook.  His  women,  of 
course,  could  work  and  do  everything  to  help  them- 

176 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

selves.  They  could  sew  and  make  their  own  dresses. 
She  felt  ashamed  of  her  own  uselessness  and  was 
about  to  make  confession  when  he  hurried  away. 
As  he  ran  he  turned  and  called  out : 

"You'd  better  take  a  shell  and  see  if  you  can 
scrape  off  some  of  that  rust  inside  the  pot." 

He  disappeared,  leaving  her  looking  in  dismay, 
first  at  the  iron  pot  and  then  at  the  crabs,  already 
striving  to  regain  their  liberty.  She  had  not  the 
slightest  idea  what  to  do.  Her  only  knowledge  of 
crabs  was  when  their  tender,  white,  flakelike  meat 
was  served  in  chafing-dish  with  delicious  sherry 
sauce.  How  to  accomplish  the  operation  of  trans- 
forming those  crawling,  dangerous-looking  things 
into  a  toothsome  dish  she  had  not  the  slightest  no- 
tion. Even  if  she  did  know,  how  could  she  touch 
the  nasty  things  when  they  were  raising  their  nip- 
pers so  menacingly  and  already  trying  to  scud  away 
in  the  direction  of  their  native  habitat,  the  sea.  The 
most  she  could  do  was  to  run  after  each  wriggling 
deserter  and  with  her  foot  turn  him  over  on  his 
back.  As  to  the  other  order  she  had  received — that 
was  easy.  She  could  scrape  the  pot  with  a  shell. 

177 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

That  was  easy  enough.  Yet  if  she  were  busy  on  the 
pot  the  crabs  would  profit  by  it  to  slip  away,  and 
then  they  would  have  no  supper  at  all.  It  was  cer- 
tainly a  problem  worthy  of  the  Sphinx. 

She  was  still  trying  to  solve  it  when  Armitage 
reappeared.  In  one  hand  he  carried  a  gigantic  co- 
coanut  filled  to  the  brim  with  sparkling,  fresh  water ; 
with  the  other  he  was  dragging  along  the  sand  a 
huge  plant  of  unfamiliar  aspect. 

"Are  you  all  ready  ?"  he  called  out. 

"No — I'm  afraid  not,"  she  stammered  confusedly. 

Quick  to  guess  the  reason,  he  merely  smiled. 

"All  right,"  he  said  pleasantly.    "I'll  fix  it." 

Carefully  putting  down  the  precious  liquid,  he 
seized  hold  of  the  iron  pot,  and,  with  a  few  strokes 
of  his  sheath-knife,  soon  had  it  in  condition  and  on 
the  fire.  Over  such  fierce  heat,  the  water  did  not 
take  long  to  boil,  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  ob- 
streperous crustaceans  were  on  the  way  to  discharge 
their  natural  debt  to  two  starving  humans. 

"What  a  feast  we'll  have!"  exclaimed  Grace,  as 
she  eagerly  watched  his  preparations.  "If  only  we 
had  some  bread  to  go  with  them." 

178 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"Here's  something  just  as  good,"  he  replied  quick- 
ly. Stooping  down  toward  the  plant  he  had  just 
brought  in  he  plucked  some  of  the  fruit — long,  yel- 
low pods  with  red  speckles — and  held  them  out  to 
her. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked,  in  surprise.  "I  never 
saw  fruit  like  that  before." 

"They  are  plantains — the  potatoes  of  the  tropics," 
he  answered. 

"They  look  like  bananas,"  said  Grace,  starting  to 
peel  and  eat  one. 

"Same  family,"  he  explained.  As  if  surprised  at 
her  ignorance,  he  went  on :  "It  is  a  wonderful  fruit. 
It's  meat,  potatoes,  and  bread  all  in  one.  Its  fiber 
one  can  use  as  thread,  and  its  enormous  leaves  make 
warm  clothing.  When  the  fruit  is  powdered  and 
baked  you  would  hardly  know  it  from  rice.  Speke, 
Stanley,  and  the  other  African  explorers  frequently 
mention  plantains  as  the  staple  food  of  the  natives. 
We're  fortunate  to  find  it  here,  and  there  seems  tc 
be  an  abundance." 

Grace  looked  at  him  curiously.  She  was  nol 
aware  that  seamen  were  so  well  versed. 

179 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

"What  do  you  know  about  African  explorers?" 
she  demanded. 

Her  question  seemed  to  amuse  him,  for  he  showed 
his  teeth  in  a  smile. 

"Oh,  I've  read  their  books,"  he  replied.  "We 
sailormen  pick  up  a  good  deal  of  information  knock- 
ing about  the  world  as  we  do." 

She  would  have  liked  to  question  him  further, 
curious  to  learn  something  of  his  history,  but  there 
was  an  air  of  reserve  about  him  that  gave  her  little 
encouragement.  On  reflection  she  thought  it  un- 
wise to  appear  interested.  He  might  misconstrue 
her  motive.  She  had  not  forgotten  the  bad  reputa- 
tion he  had  borne  on  the  steamer,  and  while  there 
had  been  nothing  in  his  behavior  so  far  to  give  her 
cause  for  alarm,  she  must  not  forget  that  she  was 
entirely  alone  on  this  island  with  a  man  of  the  lower 
classes,  a  man  unaccustomed,  probably,  to  self-con- 
trol. She  must  discourage  all  familiarity,  and  never 
for  a  moment  permit  him  to  forget  the  broad  social 
gulf  which  separated  them.  With  these  anxieties 
running  through  her  mind  she  relapsed  into  silence. 
He  seemed  to  notice  the  sudden  change  in  her  man- 

180 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

ner,    for  he   looked   up   from   the   fire    and   said: 
"I'll  soon  have  it  ready.  Suppose  you  get  two  big, 
flat  shells  for  plates.     We'll  have  to  use  our  fingers 
for  forks." 

+ 

As  she  went  to  carry  out  his  suggestion,  she  said 
apologetically  : 

"You  think  of  everything.  I  wish  I  could  be  of 
more  assistance." 

"Nonsense!"  he  answered.  "Why  was  I  saved 
from  the  wreck  if  not  to  look  after  you?" 

She  did  not  like  this  speech,  savoring  as  it  did  of 
clumsy  gallantry,  so  she  made  no  rejoinder.  By  the 
time  she  had  found  the  kind  of  shells  suitable  for 
plates,  the  crabs  were  cooked  to  a  turn,  and  they  im- 
mediately sat  down  in  semi-reclining  position  to  en- 
joy them. 

It  was  a  veritable  feast  of  Lucullus  served  picnic- 
fashion  in  mid-ocean.  To  Grace  it  seemed  that  in 
all  her  life  she  had  never  tasted  anything  so  deli- 
cious. The  crabs  were  tender  and  sweet-flavored, 
and  the  plantains  provided  her  with  a  new  taste 
which  improved  on  acquaintance.  In  spite  of  their 
thus  sharing  a  common  meal  there  was  a  certain 

181 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

restraint.  Each  seemed  to  be  uncertain  of  and  mis- 
trust the  other.  They  ate  quickly  and  in  silence, 
each  preoccupied,  Grace  becoming  more  and  more 
nervous  as  the  shadows  about  her  deepened,  Ar- 

* 

mitage,  silent,  in  admiring  contemplation  of  his  com- 
panion's shapely  hands,  her  full  bust  and  white  neck, 
her  beautiful  eyes  which,  when  they  looked  full  into 
his,  caused  every  nerve  in  his  body  to  thrill. 

By  the  time  they  had  eaten  the  last  scrap,  the  eve- 
ning was  well  advanced.  The  sun  had  dipped  below 
the  watery  horizon  long  ago,  and  it  was  getting  dark 
very  rapidly.  Grace's  growing  nervousness  became 
more  and  more  apparent.  He  noticed  it  and  sud- 
denly broke  the  silence. 

"Where  will  you  sleep  to-night?"  he  asked. 
"You're  worn  out  after  all  you've  gone  through." 

"Yes — I  am  very  tired,"  she  replied. 

He  rose,  and,  after  throwing  more  wood  on  to 
the  fire,  he  turned  to  her. 

"I'll  have  to  fix  you  up  a  bed  in  the  cave  the  best 
way  I  can.  I  can  get  fern-leaves  and  long,  cypress- 
haired  moss  in  the  woods.  That'll  make  capital 
stuffing,  and  with  a  few  plantain-leaves  you'll  have  a 

182 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

mattress  fit  for  a  queen.  It'll  do  for  to-night.  To- 
morrow we'll  make  you  more  comfortable." 

Before  she  could  murmur  her  gratitude  he  had 
hurried  away  in  the  direction  of  the  woods. 

Left  alone,  her  nervousness  increased.  She  won- 
dered what  he  would  do  for  a  bed,  if  he  would  insist 
on  sharing  the  shelter  of  the  cave  with  her,  or  if  he 
would  prefer  to  sleep  outside  under  the  stars.  She 
felt  singularly  apprehensive.  A  panicky  feeling 
seized  her.  How  could  she  spend  all  the  lonely 
hours  of  the  night  in  the  terrifying  darkness — alone 
with  that  man?  She  felt  nervous  and  uneasy,  as  if 
some  new  peril  threatened  her.  Certainly,  she  would 
not  be  able  to  close  an  eye.  A  night  of  mental  tor- 
ture was  before  her. 


183 


CHAPTER  XL 

SOON  Armitage  returned,  his  arms  filled  with  a 
great  load  of  fern-leaves  and  grass. 

Grace  followed  him  into  the  gloomy  cave, 
the  interior  of  which  was  now  quite  dark.    Laying 
his  burden  down,  he  prepared  to  arrange  her  couch. 
"How  would  you  like  to  lie  ?"  he  asked. 
"I  think  I  would  prefer  to  lie  in  the  open,"  she  re- 
plied, with  a  little,  nervous  shudder. 
He  shook  his  head. 

"No — you'd  better  sleep  in  there,"  he  said.     "It 
may  rain.     Besides,  we  don't  know  what  may  be 
roaming  round  here  during  the  night.      In  there 
you'll  be  protected  on  all  three  sides,  and,  as  to  the 
entrance,   I'll  throw  a  few   big  branches   across. 
Nothing  can  get  past  without  you  knowing  it." 
"And  where  will  you  be?"  she  inquired  timidly. 
"Oh,  I'll  throw  myself  down  by  the  fire.    I'm  ac- 
customed to  roughing  it." 

184 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

The  bed  was  swiftly  made,  soft  and  springy.  All 
it  lacked  were  pillow  and  covering. 

"Take  my  advice  and  don't  sleep  in  your  clothes," 
he  said.  "You  can't  sleep  properly  unless  you  do, 
and  you'll  need  all  your  strength.  There's  no  one  to 
disturb  you.  You  can  use  your  dress  for  a  pillow 
and  your  mantle  for  a  sheet.  Don't  be  nervous.  I'll 
be  on  hand  if  you  want  me.  Good  night." 

"Good  night!"  she  echoed  faintly. 

He  went  out  and  she  was  alone.  It  was  now  quite 
dark  outside.  The  night  was  clear,  and  the  heavens 
were  studded  with  their  countless  stars.  The  only 
light  which  entered  the  cave  enabling  her  to  grope  her 
way  about  was  a  ghostly  flicker  from  the  distant  fire. 

She  tried  the  bed.  It  was  fairly  comfortable.  Ut- 
terly exhausted,  she  thought  she  ought  to  sleep  until 
daylight.  She  surely  would  if  only  she  could  calm 
her  nerves  aad  allay  this  persistent  premonition  of 
impending  peril.  After  all,  she  thought,  it  was  fool- 
ish to  be  afraid.  So  far  he  had  been  thoughtful  and 
respectful,  and  given  her  no  cause  for  alarm,  and  as 
to  wild  animals,  they  couldn't  get  at  her  if  the  en- 
trance were  closed.  Should  she  disrobe  entirely  or 

185 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

remain  fully  dressed  to  be  ready  for  any  emergency  ? 
Certainly  she  would  be  more  comfortable  undressed. 
Besides,  it  was  the  only  way  in  which  she  could  get 
a  pillow  and  covering. 

At  that  moment  a  heavy  thud  just  outside  made 
her  heart  leap  to  her  mouth. 

"Who's  there  ?"  she  cried  out. 

"It's  only  me,"  answered  Armitage.  "I'm  fixing 
the  door  of  your  hotel.  I  guess  nothing  can  get  in 
now.  Good  night." 

"Good  night !"  she  replied  faintly. 

She  listened  to  his  footsteps  as  they  died  away  in 
the  distance,  and  slowly  began  to  disrobe. 

She  was  soon  undressed  and  was  about  to  get  into 
bed  and  cover  herself  up  when  a  thought  occurred 
to  her.  There  was  something  still  to  be  done.  Drop- 
ping on  her  knees,  her  bare  feet  on  the  cold  sand,  she 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  for  the  first  time 
in  her  life  offered  up  a  fervent  prayer  to  the  un- 
known, Almighty  Power  that  directs  all  things. 
Grace  had  never  been  a  devout  girl.  She  had  no  de- 
cided metaphysical  views  of  any  kind.  She  was 
merely  indifferent.  Given  up  solely  to  a  life  of  pleas- 

186 


j  BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

ure,  religion  to  her  had  been  only  a  word.  Her  par- 
ents had  a  pew  at  St.  Thomas',  on  Fifth  Avenue, 
and  when  she  had  a  new  hat  or  a  new  gown  to  show 
off,  she  attended  the  services  in  the  same  spirit  that 
she  would  go  to  the  horse  show  or  any  other  fash- 
ionable function.  Never  until  now  had  she  felt  the 
need  of  that  moral  support  and  encouragement 
which  never  fails  to  bring  comfort  to  the  faithful 
in  their  hour  of  trouble.  She  prayed  earnestly  to  be 
saved  from  her  present  desperate  situation,  for  pro- 
tection during  the  coming  night,  and  she  prayed  also 
for  her  late  ship  companions  who  at  that  moment 
might  be  suffering  in  the  open  boats.  This  done,  her 
mind  felt  easier,  and,  covering  herself  as  well  as  she 
could,  she  closed  her  eyes  and  courted  sleep. 

Happily  the  night  was  warm,  otherwise  her  scant 
covering,  consisting  solely  of  a  thin  mantle,  would 
not  have  sufficed.  Everything  outside  was  perfectly 
still.  The  lazy  splash  of  the  surf  and  the  gentle  mur- 
mur of  the  breeze  were  the  only  sounds  that  reached 
her  ears.  Not  hearing  Armitage  moving  about  she 
concluded  that  he  had  rolled  himself  up  near  the  fire 
and  gone  to  sleep. 

187 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

She  closed  her  eyes,  and,  lulled  into  drowsiness  by 
the  distant  music  of  the  sea,  she  gradually  sank  into 
the  delicious  semi-conscious  state  that  just  precedes 
slumber.  Through  her  tired  brain  passed  confused 
mental  pictures  of  the  extraordinary  happenings  of 
the  last  forty-eight  hours — the  dance  on  the  deck, 
the  sudden  storm,  the  shock  as  the  great  liner  struck 
the  sunken  reef,  the  rush  for  the  life-boats,  her  fall 
into  the  water  and  the  long  swim  until  she  came  to 
herself  on  this  island  and  recognized  the  refractory 
stoker,  Armitage,  as  her  rescuer.  She  wondered  if 
he  was  really  as  black  as  he  had  been  painted.  If  he 
was,  she  had  seen  nothing  of  his  bad  qualities.  He 
was  only  a  stoker — a  superior  one  to  be  sure,  from 
his  conversation  and  knowledge  of  things — and  so 
far  he  had  behaved  like  a  gentleman. 

She  wondered  what  she  would  do  if  suddenly  he 
forced  his  way  in  now  and  attacked  her.  Would  she 
scream,  or  faint,  or  do  any  of  the  hysterical  things 
a  woman  is  supposed  to  do  in  such  circumstances? 
Her  mind  dwelt  upon  his  personal  appearance.  She 
recalled  how  handsome,  and  graceful,  and  strong  he 
looked  as  he  came  along  the  beach  at  a  swinging 

188 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

gait,  bringing  to  her  that  greatly  needed  breakfast, 
which  she  had  devoured  with  such  appetite.  From 
him,  her  thoughts  traveled  homeward.  She  saw  her 
poor  mother  and  father  grieving  for  her,  and  her 
supposed  loss  the  sensation  of  the  hour  in  their  im- 
mediate circle  of  friends.  Then  her  thoughts  grew 
mixed  and  confused.  Her  breathing  grew  more 
regular,  her  bosom  rose  and  fell  with  rhythmic  mo- 
tion, her  brain  ceased  thinking.  She  was  asleep. 
******* 

The  long  hours  of  the  night  passed  slowly.  Her 
slumber  had  been  as  peaceful  and  profound  as  that 
of  a  child  when,  about  thVee  o'clock,  she  suddenly 
awoke  with  a  start.  At  first  she  believed  she  was 
still  in  her  luxurious  stateroom  on  board  the  At- 
lanta, but  the  rough  couch,  the  prickly  points  of 
which  punctured  her  thin  garment,  and  the  splash  of 
the  surf  outside  rudely  reminded  her  of  her  mis- 
fortune. 

She  wondered  what  had  interrupted  her  sleep.  It 
was  still  pitch-dark  and  everything  was  quiet,  yet 
she  was  wide-awake  with  every  sense  and  nerve 
alert  and  tense.  Like  most  persons  who  awake  sud- 

189 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

denly  in  the  middle  of  the  night  without  being  able 
to  explain  the  cause,  she  was  at  once  seized  with 
nervous  dread.  Something  was  wrong. 

Hastily,  fearfully  she  glanced  around,  but  her 
eyes  were  unable  to  penetrate  the  opaque  darkness 
that  surrounded  her.  The  faint  light  that  came  from 
the  cave  entrance  only  served  to  make  the  shadows 
deeper.  She  strained  her  ears,  but  heard  no  sound. 
Yet  she  could  not  shake  off  the  terrifying  suggestion 
that  some  one  or  something  had  entered  the  cave 
while  she  was  asleep  and  now  stood  in  the  shadows 
watching  her,  perhaps  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to 
attack  her. 

The  more  she  thought  of  the  possibility  of  such  a 
thing,  the  more  alarmed  she  became,  and  her  nerv- 
ousness increased  each  minute  until  she  was  bathed 
in  perspiration  from  head  to  foot.  She  tried  to  rea- 
son with  herself,  to  shake  off  the  impression,  and 
with  an  exclamation  of  impatience  at  her  own  child- 
ishness she  turned  over  and  again  closed  her  eyes. 
But  as  she  moved  It  moved  also.  Her  alert  ear 
caught  the  sound  of  a  slow  and  cautious  movement, 
as  if  some  one  or  something  were  creeping  on  all 

190 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

fours  toward  her.  Petrified  with  fright,  her  heart 
in  her  mouth,  she  called  out : 

"Who's  there?" 

There  was  no  answer,  but  the  sound  ceased. 

Something  was  there,  that  was  certain.  At  any 
moment  it  might  spring  upon  her.  She  shook  with 
terror,  her  teeth  chattered.  She  dare  not  make  a 
movement.  Her  ears  were  strained  for  sounds  of 
further  moves.  Almost  rigid  with  fright,  each  pass- 
ing moment  seemed  a  century.  If  only  she  could  flee 
from  there  and  reach  the  open.  She  was  sorry  now 
that  Armitage  had  left  her  alone.  What  would  she 
not  give  to  be  able  to  call  him  now  to  her  aid ! 

Suddenly  the  bed  moved  as  though  something  had 
accidentally  stumbled  against  it.  She  distinctly 
heard  a  rustling  sound  as  if  something  had  grazed 
the  branches  of  which  her  couch  was  built.  The 
Thing,  whatever  it  was,  man  or  beast,  was  close  to 
her.  The  suspense  was  more  than  she  could  bear. 
Almost  swooning  from  terror  she  sprang  up,  and, 
leaning  over  the  side,  peered  into  the  darkness. 
What  she  beheld  made  the  blood  freeze  in  her  veins. 

A  long,  slimy-looking,  sinuous  thing,  almost  as 
191 


thick  as  a  man's  arm  and  nearly  six  feet  in  length, 
was  gliding  slowly  and  aimlessly  about  in  the  shad- 
ow. In  the  faint  glimmer  of  light  that  struggled 
in  from  the  entrance  to  the  cave  was  plainly  discerni- 
ble a  pair  of  glistening  eyes  set  in  a  squat,  flat  head, 
and  a  cruel  mouth  with  fanglike  teeth  in  which  a 
forked  tongue  darted  rapidly  back  and  forth.  It- 
was  a  huge  hooded  cobra,  the  deadliest  of  all  the  ven- 
omous serpents  inhabiting  tropical  Asia. 

Panic-stricken,  Grace  opened  her  mouth  to 
scream,  but  no  sound  issued  forth.  She  tried  to  flee, 
but  some  irresistible  power  held  her  rooted  to  the 
spot.  Every  faculty,  every  muscle  in  her  was  para- 
lyzed by  unspeakable  horror. 

With  eyes  dilated  with  terror,  with  every  nerve 
tense  to  the  snapping-point,  she  watched  with  fearful 
fascination  that  hideous,  slimy  head  as  with  slow, 
rhythmic  motion  it  swayed  from  side  to  side,  the 
forked  tongue  darting  from  the  horrid  mouth  as 
lightning  rends  the  skies.  Staring  straight  into  the 
cruel,  beady  eyes,  her  fixed  gaze  seemed  riveted  there 
against  her  will,  as  if  the  reptile  had  cast  over  her  a 
hypnotic  spell.  She  felt  herself  gradually  growing 

192 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

numb,  cold  sweat  burst  from  every  pore,  her  flesh 
crept,  and  there  was  a  tingling  sensation  at  the  roots 
of  her  hair. 

Each  instant  she  expected  that  the  cobra  would 
dart  forward  and  strike  her.  The  suspense  was  fear- 
ful. The  seconds  seemed  like  centuries.  She  won- 
dered when  the  fatal  moment  would  come  that  would 
mean  her  death.  Certainly,  all  was  over  with  her 
now.  The  storm,  the  shipwreck — that  was  nothing. 
This  new  peril,  a  thousand  times  more  deadly  than 
those  she  had  emerged  from  safely,  was  momentari- 
ly Coming  nearer,  and  she  was  powerless  to  avert  it. 
She  must  be  resigned  to  perish  miserably  and  cruelly 
the  most  shocking  of  deaths.  Escape  was  out  of  the 
question.  Coiled  up  in  threatening  attitude  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed  the  reptile  was  between  her  and 
safety.  If  she  attempted  to  run  she  would  never 
reach  the  open. 

That  the  cobra  was  conscious  of  her  presence  and 
was  preparing  to  attack  there  could  be  no  doubt.  It 
showed  its  irritation  in  the  manner  usual  to  its 
species,  by  dilating  its  neck  until  it  formed  the  shape 
of  a  broad  hood.  Evidently  the  reptile  made  its 

193 


home  in  one  of  the  dark  recesses  of  the  cave.  Asleep, 
it  had  awakened  during  the  night,  and  its  keen  sense 
of  smell  attracted  by  the  unusual  odor  of  a  warm 
human  body,  it  had  crawled  to  where  she  lay  and 
now  was  ready  to  claim  its  prey.  The  slightest 
move  on  her  part  and  it  would  dart  forward.  A 
lightninglike  thrust  forward  of  that  loathsome 
head,  then  the  powerful,  scaly  coils  would  close 
around  her,  there  would  be  the  ghastly  sound  of 
bones  being  crunched,  and  all  would  be  over.  Ar- 
mitage  would  come  in  only  to  find  her  mangled  and 
partially  devoured  body,  perhaps  himself  to  meet 
with  a  similar  fate. 

Again  she  opened  her  mouth  to  scream  and  warn 
him.  Her  tongue  clove,  speechless,  to  her  dry  pal- 
ate. A  feeling  of  nausea  came  over  her,  her  temples 
were  throbbing,  her  heart  seemed  to  have  stopped 
beating.  She  wondered  if  she  had  gone  mad. 

She  was  noting  the  curious,  spectacle-like  mark- 
ings on  the  back  of  the  reptile's  hood  when  suddenly 
the  cobra  started  to  hiss  loudly  as  slowly  it  began  to 
move  nearer  to  its  trembling  victim.  Coil  after  coil 
of  its  glistening,  sinuous  body  followed  the  hideous 

194 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

head  as  the  creature  dragged  itself  along.  As  it 
glided  its  sinister  way  over  the  sand  the  cruel,  beady 
eyes  for  a  brief  instant  were  averted  from  the  girl. 
Instantly  the  hypnotic  spell  which  had  held  her 
transfixed  was  broken.  Uttering  a  piercing  scream, 
she  sprang  from  the  bed  and  took  refuge  on  the  far 
side  of  the  cave.  The  cobra,  enraged  at  her  attempt 
to  escape,  hissed  more  loudly,  and,  accelerating  its 
movements,  moved  rapidly  in  her  direction. 

Flattened  up  against  the  wall  of  the  cave  Grace's 
lips  parted  in  a  last,  despairing  prayer.  She  could 
retreat  no  farther.  Solid  rock  barred  the  way,  and 
escape  to  the  open  was  cut  off.  She  had  not  im- 
proved her  position.  By  seeking  to  evade  her  doom, 
the  agony  was  only  drawn  out  the  longer.  The 
cobra  was  now  only  a  dozen  feet  away.  Coiling 
upon  itself  within  striking  distance  it  suddenly  drew 
back  its  head,  then,  with  lightning  speed,  shot  it  for- 
ward. 

Quick  as  the  movement  was,  Grace  was  quicker. 
Her  instinct  of  self-preservation  enabled  her  to  fore- 
tell the  instant  the  creature  would  spring,  and  the 
energy  of  despair  gave  her  strength.  Giving  an- 

195 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

other  shout  for  help,  she  nimbly  jumped  aside  just  in 
time  to  avoid  the  blow.  Hissing  furiously  with  baf- 
fled rage  the  serpent  resumed  the  attack.  Dawn  was 
slowly  breaking,  and  in  the  dim  light  she  could  see 
the  creature's  cruel  eyes  scintillating  as  they  turned 
to  look  for  her. 

Breathless,  panting  from  the  unusual  exertion,  in 
a  state  of  complete  nervous  collapse,  Grace  was  in 
no  condition  to  continue  the  unequal  combat.  She 
realized  that  her  strength  was  fast  ebbing.  It  was 
only  a  question  of  seconds  now  when  she  must  suc- 
cumb. As  those  horrid,  beady  eyes  met  hers,  again 
she  was  seized  with  that  strange  sense  of  limpness, 
utter  inability  to  move  a  muscle.  Again  she  was 
under  the  hypnotic  spell.  She  realized  that  death  in 
its  most  fearful  form  was  there  before  her,  claiming 
her.  She  felt  sick  and  faint.  Staggering  as  she 
clutched  the  cold,  rocky  wall  of  her  living  prison,  she 
gave  another  despairing  scream  like  a  wail  of  human 
agony. 

Scarcely  conscious,  she  saw  through  her  half- 
closed  eyes  the  cobra  gliding  nearer,  she  could  al- 
most feel  the  reptile's  fetid  breath  upon  her  cheek. 

196 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

With  hopeless  horror  she  saw  it  approach  closer  and 
closer,  then  stop  and  again  coil  itself  ready  for  the 
final  spring.  She  shuddered,  and,  closing  her  eyes, 
waited  for  the  end.  There  was  a  strange  buzzing  in 
her  ears.  Suddenly  everything  grew  dark.  The 
cobra  began  hissing  more  furiously.  There  was  a 
loud  crash  and  she  knew  no  more. 

When  again  she  opened  her  eyes,  she  was  lying 
on  the  bed  and  Armitage  was  kneeling  by  her  side, 
bathing  her  face  with  water.  Surprised  to  find  her- 
self still  alive,  she  looked  at  him,  the  look  of  terror 
still  in  her  face.  Fearfully  she  whispered : 

"Where  is  it  ?    Did  you  see  it  ?" 

"It's  all  right,"  he  said  cheerily,  trying  to  quiet 
her.  "It  won't  trouble  you  any  more." . 

"Was  it  only  a  nightmare?"  she  murmured. 

"Nightmare — no,"  he  answered.  "It  was  real 
enough.  Look !" 

He  pointed  to  a  few  paces  away  where  lay  the 
cobra,  dead,  its  head  crushed  in  by  an  enormous 
stone. 

"I  heard  you  scream/'  he  explained.  "I  was 
asleep.  It  woke  me.  At  first  I  thought  I  was 

197 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

dreaming.  Then  came  another  scream.  I  ran  here 
and  saw  you  against  the  wall  yonder  and  the  serpent 
preparing  to  spring.  I  picked  up  a  stone  and  killed 
him.  I  was  just  in  time,  a  second  later  and  it  would 
have  been  too  late." 

"Thank  God!"  she  said. 

Then  she  fainted  again. 


198 


CHAPTER  XH 

IT  was  some  time  before  Grace  had  icanered  suf- 
ficiently from  the  uettma  shock  of  her  terrify- 
ing encounter  with  the  cobra  to  be  able  to  get 
about,  and  dnring  this  period  of  euforeed  irflrnrss 
she  was  « '••t!fTll*il  to  HgpmH  ahogetiier  <M  Arnri- 
tage.  He  supplied  her  with  the  necessaries  and,  as 
wefl  as  he  was  able,  administered  to  her  comfort. 

Grateful  to  hfm  for  bis  attentions,  it  was  not  long 
before  her  feeling  of  rliKgxtitm  chaugul  into  real 
regard  for  the  man.  The  dread  in  which  she  at  first 
held  hfm  had  compJeteiy  disappeared,  as  was  only 
natural  after  the  services  he  had  rendered  her. 
Twice  she  owed  him  her  life.  That  alone  was  a 
debt  she  could  never  repay.  Moreover,  he  was 
thoughtful  and  uaiictms.  and,  so  far,  at  least;  bad 
shown  no  disposition  to  take  advantage  of  her  help- 
less situation.  How  much  worse  her  position  would 
be  if  he  were  not  there  at  all ! 

Bat  she  was  too  much  worried  and  preoccupied 
199 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST. 

with  her  own  troubles  to  give  her  strange  companion 
much  thought.  She  watched  him  at  work,  and  she 
ate  listlessly  the  food  he  brought  her,  but  that  was 
about  all  the  interest  she  took  in  anything. 

Her  one  burning  desire  was  to  get  away.  During 
all  her  waking  hours  her  thoughts  turned  only  in  one 
direction :  how  to  escape  as  speedily  as  possible  from 
this  wretched  island.  As  the  days  went  by  and  no 
vessel  appeared,  she  began  to  wonder  if  they  would 
ever  be  rescued,  or  if  she  was  doomed  to  remain  on 
that  remote  islet  for  the  rest  of  her  days  unable  to 
communicate  with  her  father  and  mother  and 
friends,  who,  in  ignorance  of  her  fate,  had  long  since 
given  her  up  as  dead.  Perhaps  in  years  to  come 
some  ship  touching  at  the  island  in  search  of  water 
would  find,  strewed  along  the  beach,  her  bleached 
bones  and  his — picked  clean  by  the  vultures.  She 
wept  bitterly  as  she  thought  of  it;  her  face  was 
bathed  in  tears  of  compassion  over  her  misfortune. 
She  was  ashamed  to  let  Armitage  see  that  she  had 
been  crying,  but  all  day  she  brooded  over  her  sor- 
row, and  at  night  she  dreamed  that  he  was  building 
a  boat  stout  enough  to  convey  them  to  the  mainland. 

200 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Fearful  that  she  would  lose  all  notion  of  time,  she 
started  to  count  the  days,  keeping  a  rough  kind  of 
calender  by  scratching  notches  at  regular  intervals 
on  a  shell.  She  notched  off  the  days  one  by  one,  her 
spirits  sinking  in  proportion  as  their  number  in- 
creased. In  her  despair  she  appealed  to  her  com- 
panion to  reassure  her.  But  Armitage  shook  his 
head  dubiously.  He  had  little  comfort  to  offer. 

"We  must  be  patient,"  he  said  grimly.  "We're 
here  scarcely  a  week.  Think  of  those  shipwrecked 
sailors  who  have  been  marooned  on  desert  islands 
for  months,  even  years,  often  with  almost  nothing 
to  eat.  When  finally  they  were  rescued  they  were 
not  recognizable  as  men.  Their  clothes  hung  upon 
them  in  shreds,  their  hair  was  matted  and  over- 
grown, they  had  forgotten  how  to  talk,  they  tore  the 
meat  given  them  with  their  fingers  like  famished 
wolves.  We  have  not  so  much  to  complain  of.  We 
have  plenty  of  water,  enough  to  eat.  It's  no  use 
fretting.  We  must  wait  patiently.  Perhaps  we 
won't  have  to  wait  long.  Any  day  our  signal-fire 
may  be  sighted  by  a  vessel." 

now  kept  two  fires  going,  one  close  at  hand 

201 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

for  their  own  use,  and  another  much  bigger  on  top 
of  the  hill  for  signaling  purposes.  The  hill-top  com- 
manded a  superb  view  of  every  part  of  the  island, 
and,  viewed  from  the  ocean,  it  must  have  been  a 
conspicuous  mark  for  miles.  They  christened  it 
Mount  Hope,  for  on  it  Grace  centered  all  her  fervent 
prayers  for  rescue.  It  became  her  Mecca,  and  each 
day  she  made  the  long  and  exhausting  climb  up  its 
precipitous  slope  in  the  expectation  of  seeing  steamer 
smoke  or  a  sail  on  the  distant  horizon.  But  disap- 
pointment always  awaited  her.  There  was  nothing 
in  every  direction  but  dreary,  monotonous  wastes  of 
heaving  water,  the  boisterous  waves  dancing  in  th^ 
sunlight  as  if  to  mock  her  misery. 

The  care  of  keeping  this  signal-fire  going  devolved 
on  Armitage,  and  it  was  the  day's  most  important 
task.  The  fire  was  kept  banked  with  damped  moss 
and  peat  in  the  daytime,  so  it  would  throw  off  a 
smoke  thick  enough  to  be  visible  miles  away  at  sea. 
At  night  it  was  made  to  blaze  furiously  with  th^ 
same  object  in  view. 

The  cave  had  been  deserted  long  ago.  The  day 
following  her  horrible  experience  with  the  serpent, 

202 


;  BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Grace  protested  hysterically  that  nothing  could  in- 
duce her  to  enter  the  gloomy  place  again.  Sleeping 
in  it,  she  declared,  was  utterly  out  of  the  question. 
The  cobra  was  dead,  but  there  was  no  telling  what 
other  reptile  as  venomous  and  deadly  might  again 
crawl  out  of  the  cave's  countless  holes  and  recesses. 
Armitage  admitted  the  possibility,  and  at  once  of- 
fered to  build  a  cabin  for  her  in  the  open.  It  would 
be  far  more  healthy  and  comfortable. 

She  gladly  consented,  and  he  went  to  work  with  a 
will.  He  had  no  tools,  and  his  construction  mate- 
rials were  necessarily  of  the  most  primitive  char- 
acter. Happily,  the  weather  continued  fine,  and, 
while  her  new  home  was  in  the  building,  Grace  man- 
aged as  best  she  could  under  a  temporary  shelter. 

Selecting  a  site  that  was  high  and  dry,  Armitage 
first  dug  a  square  hole  in  the  ground  three  feet  deep 
by  about  fourteen  feet  in  length  and  breadth.  Eacn 
side  of  the  excavation  he  lined  with  stone  walls 
made  of  huge  boulders  piled  one  on  top  of  another, 
and  decreasing  in  weight  and  size  until  they  reached 
a  height  all  round  of  nearly  nine  feet.  The  inter- 
stices he  filled  with  clay  to  keep  out  the  wind  and 

203 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

rain,  and  additional  strength  was  secured  for  the 
walls  by  banking  up  earth  on  all  four  exterior  sides. 
It  was  a  herculean  task,  for  each  of  the  big,  heavy 
stones  had  to  be  dragged  a  considerable  distance,  and 
the  only  implement  he  had  to  dig  with  was  a  crude 
spade  which  he  made  out  of  a  piece  of  planed  wood 
found  among  the  drift  along  the  shore  and  sharp- 
ened and  hardened  in  fire.  Light  entered  through  a 
door  and  window,  and  then  came  the  roof.  This  he 
made  with  heavy  limbs  of  trees  equally  matched, 
which  rested  on  top  of  the  stone  walls,  these  in  turn 
being  crossed  with  smaller  branches,  and  the  whole 
covered  with  a  thick  thatch  of  tussac-grass  and  moss 
held  in  place  by  heavy  stones.  The  floor  inside  was 
strewn  with  tussac-grass  to  keep  the  feet  dry  from 
the  damp  earth.  There  was  also  a  fireplace  for  logs, 
with  a  flue  and  chimney  to  carry  off  the  smoke,  and 
before  it  was  ready  for  occupancy  he  started  a  fire, 
thus  driving  out  the  damp  and  making  it  dry  and  in- 
habitable. 

He  toiled  unceasingly  and  tirelessly,  whistling 
cheerfully  as  he  worked.  As  Grace  watched  him, 
the  thought  was  impressed  upon  her  more  strongly 

204 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

than  ever  that  this  man  was  far  happier  here  amid 
primeval  conditions,  thrown  upon  his  own  resources, 
than  he  had  been  in  a  so-called  civilized  state.  Evi- 
dently he  had  no  keen  desire  to  be  rescued.  The 
thought  filled  her  again  with  dismay.  Not  that  it 
would  really  make  any  material  difference.  If  suc- 
cor were  coming,  they  would  be  rescued  whether  her 
mysterious  companion  wished  it  or  not  But  that 
any  human  being  could  be  reconciled  to  spending 
the  remainder  of  his  days  on  a  barren  islet  in  a  re- 
mote part  of  the  ocean,  without  clothes,  tools,  books, 
or  even  the  bare  necessaries  of  life,  was  intolerable. 
A  man  who  could  entertain  such  an  idea  for  a  mo- 
ment could  have  instincts  little  superior  to  a  savage. 

Often  she  had  watched  her  strange,  moody  com- 
panion as  he  worked  and  wondered  what  his  history 
was.  He  was  no  ordinary  seaman — that  was  evident 
from  his  speech  and  manner.  He  had  certainly 
known  better  days.  He  never  spoke  of  himself,  and 
when  tactfully  she  broached  the  subject,  he  abruptly 
changed  the  conversation.  One  day  she  said  to  him : 

"You  weren't  always  a  stoker,  were  %  you — you 
weren't  born  to  that  kind  of  life  ?" 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

He  stopped  in  his  work,  and  for  a  moment  looked 
at  her  in  silence,  as  if  seeking  time  to  frame  his  an- 
swer. Then  laconically  he  said : 

"My  past  life  is  dead.  I  live  only  in  the  present. 
Just  what  I  seem  I  am." 

Still  unconvinced,  she  returned  to  the  attack. 

"Why  did  you  desert  from  the  steamer  in  New 
York?" 

He  clenched  his  fist  as  thus  brutally  she  revived 
the  memory  of  his  past  suffering,  and  in  a  low  tone, 
which  came  almost  like  a  hiss  from  between  his  set 
teeth,  he  said: 

"Because  I  could  not  stand  it  any  longer — I  just 
couldn't.  I  was  desperate." 

"Why  did  you  take  to  such  dreadful  work?"  she 
persisted.  "Was  there  nothing  else  more  congenial, 
less  brutalizing  that  you  could  do  ?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"No — nothing.  There  was  nothing  else."  Bit- 
terly he  added :  "The  poor  must  slave  so  that  the 
rich  may  enjoy." 

Puzzled,  she  asked : 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

206 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"It's  no  use  going  into  particulars,"  he  replied, 
almost  contemptuously.  "You  wouldn't  under- 
stand." 

Turning  on  his  heel,  he  resumed  his  work  on  the 
cabin. 

Grace  did  understand.  She  understood  that  there 
was  something  in  the  past  life  of  this  man  which  he 
did  not  wish  to  divulge.  She  felt  that  he  had  suf- 
fered, and  she  was  sorry  for  him.  Again  she  tried 
to  draw  him  out,  but  skilfully  he  parried  her  ques- 
tions, and  appeared  to  resent  them.  Noticing  this, 
she  desisted.  His  past,  as  far  as  she  was  concerned, 
at  any  rate,  was  and  must  remain  a  sealed  book. 

But  Grace  did  not  remain  silent  for  all  that.  £>he 
was  too  much  of  a  woman  to  permit  of  that.  Seer 
ing  that  she  could  get  nothing  from  him,  she  talked 
afaout  herself.  She  chattered  about  her  frame  in 
New  York,  about  her  friends,  about  the  things  which 
interested  her  and  the  things  which  bored  her?  He 
listened  as  he  worked,  apparently  interested,  and 
when  she  said  that  she  despised  the  empty  and  friv- 
olous amusements  of  her  set  and  was  ambitious  to 
do  something  more  worthy  in  life,  he  nodded  ap- 

207 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

provingly.  When  she  had  told  him  everything,  once 
more  she  attempted  to  question  him  in  turn,  but  he 
relapsed  into  an  obstinate  silence. 

After  a  week's  continuous  toil  the  cabin  was  com- 
pleted. As  a  finishing  touch,  he  made  some  furni- 
ture for  it — a  crude  table  and  two  three-legged 
stools.  When  he  had  put  the  bed  in  place  the  hut 
was  ready  for  occupancy.  When  at  last  everything 
was  ready,  he  called  out  to  Grace  to  come  and  in- 
spect her  new  home. 

"You'll  be  comfortable  in  here,"  he  said  cheerily. 
"At  least  there  are  no  snakes.  I  can  promise  you 
that." 

He  waited  for  her  to  say  something,  expecting 
that  she  would  be  pleased. 

"It's  very  nice,"  she  said  hesitatingly.  "Only " 

"Only  what?"  he  demanded  in  a  tone  of  disap- 
pointment. 

"It's  too  bad  to  have  taken  so  much  pains  for  so 
short  a  time,"  she  said. 

He  laughed  carelessly. 

"So  short  a  time  ?"  he  echoed.  Almost  mocking- 
ly he  asked :  "Do  you  expect  to  leave  here  so  soon?" 

208 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"As  soon  as  I  can — you  may  depend  upon  that!" 
she  replied  determinedly,  almost  ready  to  cry. 

His  indifference  angered  her.  She  thought  it 
brutal  when  he  knew  how  unhappy  and  miserable 
she  was  and  how  anxious  to  get  back  to  her  family. 
At  that  moment  she  hated  him. 

"Ah,  that's  just  it !"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  gesture 
of  impatience.  "As  soon  as  you  can !  But  you  can't ! 
We're  prisoners  here — in  prison  just  as  securely  as 
though  we  were  behind  iron  bars.  We  can't  get 
away." 

"But  we'll  get  away  some  time,  won't  we?"  she 
gasped. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"The  chances  are  slim,"  he  replied  grimly. 

"Then  what  good  is  our  signal-fire?"  she  per- 
sisted. 

"Not  much  good,"  he  admitted  frankly. 

Her  heart  sank.  Her  face  paled,  and  her  lips 
trembled  as  she  asked: 

"Don't  you  think  it'll  be  seen  sooner  or  later? 
Ships  must  pass  by  here  some  time." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
209 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"Even  if  they  do,  they  may  not  see  the  fire.  If  a 
ship  passes  near  this  island  it  would  be  a  great  dis- 
tance away.  It  would  never  occur  to  them  to  look 
here  for  signals.  Besides,  very  few  vessels  do  pass. 
A  ship  may  not  sight  our  signal  for  a  year,  maybe 
five  years,  perhaps  never.  You  remember  Alexan- 
der Selkirk — Robinson  Crusoe.  He  was  twenty- 
eight  years  on  Tobago  island — in  complete  solitude." 

Grace  gave  a  low  moan  of  distress. 

"At  least,"  he  went  on,  after  some  hesitation,  "we 
have  each  other." 

This  remark  angered  her.  She  thought  it  imper- 
tinent. The  boldness  of  his  veiled  insinuation  was 
more  than  she  could  bear.  He  actually  contemplated 
the  possibility  of  a  permanent  stay. 

"I  couldn't  stand  it,"  she  cried  hoarsely,  her  eyes 
filled  with  scalding  tears.  "I  would  rather  kill  my- 
self." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  that  made  her  all 
the  more  angry. 

"You  don't  care,"  she  went  on.  "You're  willing 
to  sacrifice  me  because  you  prefer  this  kind  of  ex- 
istence to  the  wretched  life  you've  had." 

210 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

This  speech  aroused  him  to  action.  All  his  life 
he  had  suffered  from  injustice.  This  girl,  he 
thought,  was  like  all  the  others.  For  a  moment,  he 
lost  his  sang-froid. 

"You're  unjust!"  he  replied  hotly.  "I'm  doing 
all  I  can.  Who  built  the  signal-fire  on  Mount  Hope  ? 
I  did.  Who  keeps  it  going  night  and  day?  I  do. 
It's  no  fun  climbing  up  that  steep  hill  collecting  fresh 
fuel,  but  I  do  it.  Even  in  my  sleep  sometimes  I 
wake  up  in  fright,  thinking  I  may  have  neglected 
to  throw  on  enough  fuel,  fearful  that  the  fire  will  go 
out — my  last  match  gone.  I  work  myself  into  a  cold 
sweat  thinking  of  it.  I  can't  sleep.  At  last  I  am  un- 
able to  stand  it  any  longer.  I  get  up  and  rush  to  the 
hill-top,  all  for  nothing.  The  signal-fire  is  still  burn- 
ing brightly.  All  that  time  you  are  sleeping  peace- 
fully. Does  that  look  as  if  I  didn't  care  ?" 

"Forgive  me,"  she  murmured  between  her  tears. 
"I'm  peevish  and  unreasonable.  Forgive  me.  I'm 
so  unhappy !" 

He  smiled  sympathetically, 

"Don't  get  discouraged,"  he  said  kindly.  "As 
long  as  we're  here,  it's  best  to  get  along  as  well  as 

811 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

we  can.  It's  no  use  fretting.  If  help  is  coming  it 
will  come.  You'll  not  mend  matters  by  worrying." 
She  felt  he  was  right.  What  use  were  her  tears 
and  her  irritation?  He  was  doing  all  he  could. 
They  were  in  the  hands  of  an  inscrutable  Provi- 
dence. As  long  as  the  signal-fire  was  kept  burning 
there  was  hope.  / 


212 


CHAPTER  XIII 

SLOWLY  the  weeks  slipped  by.  The  castaways 
were  still  in  their  island  prison  with  relief  as 
far  away,  apparently,  as  ever. 
Grace  had  taken  possession  of  her  cabin  and  made 
herself  as  comfortable  as  it  was  possible  under  the 
circumstances.  The  luxuries  to  which  she  had  al- 
ways been  accustomed  were  lamentably  lacking. 
There  was  no  dainty  bathroom  for  her  ablutions,  no 
maid  to  answer  her  call,  no  extensive  wardrobe  to 
select  from,  no  telephone  through  which  she  could 
chat  with  friends.  But  at  least  she  had  shelter  and 
a  bed  to  sleep  upon,  and  for  these  blessings  she  was 
sensible  enough  to  be  devoutly  thankful.  Armitage 
had  built  close  by,  for  his  own  use,  a  similar,  but 
less  elaborate,  hut,  and  he  took  a  certain  pride  in 
keeping  it  in  order. 

One  day  Grace  found  some  flowers  on  the  table 
in  her  cabin.    Only  one  person  could  have  put  them 

213 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

there,  and  when  she  realized  that  fact,  it  came  rather 
as  a  shock  to  find  her  strange  companion  paying  her 
attentions  of  this  nature. 

"Thank  you  for  the  flowers,"  she  said,  with  some 
embarrassment. 

"I  thought  they'd  brighten  the  place  up  a  bit,"  he 
replied  awkwardly. 

He  smiled,  and  she  noticed  for  the  first  time  that 
he  had  fine  white  teeth.  But  nothing  more  was 
said,  and  he  went  unconcernedly  about  his  work. 

For  the  remainder  of  that  morning  she  avoided 
him.  She  left  her  cabin  and  fled  to  Mount  Hope, 
straining  her  eyes  once  more  in  a  fruitless  effort  to 
see  appear  on  the  horizon  the  ship  which  would  come 
to  her  rescue. 

Monotonous  and  lonely  as  was  their  existence  on 
this  remote  islet,  there  was  plenty  of  work  to  be 
done,  and  the  hours  sotnetimes  sped  by  so  quickly 
that  both  Grace  and  Afmitage  were  astonished. 
The  shadows  of  night  Would  fall  when  they  had 
thought  it  only  a  little  past  noon.  Each  did  a  share 
of  the  day's  work,  glad  of  the  occupation  that  helped 
to  divert  the  mind. 

214 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

The  signal-fire  on  Mount  Hope  demanded  most 
of  Armitage's  attention;  When  not  engaged  lit 
gathering  fuel,  he  went  on  long  foraging  expedi- 
tions. The  problem  of  procuring  food  was  no  light 
one,  and,  like  other  shipwrecked  sailors,  who  have 
had  to  exercise  their  wits,  he  was  quick  to  devise 
Ways  to  keep  their  larder  supplied.  He  caught  fish 
with  a  hook  made  out  of  a  sharp-pointed  stick  hard- 
ened in  flame;  he  killed  sea-gUlls  with  stones  hurled 
from  a  sling;  he  overturned  turtles  while  they  lay 
basking  in  the  sun,  and  he  saw  to  it  that  they  had 
an  abundant  supply  of  fresh  drinking-water. 

Grace  also  Was  not  idle.  She  mended  and  patched 
their  clothes  with  needles  made  of  fish-bone  and 
thread  made  of  the  fiber  of  plantain  fruit,  and  uftder 
Armitage's  clumsy  tuition  she  quickly  learned  how 
to  cook.  He  showed  her  how  to  cleari  and  broil 
the  fish  he  Caught,  and  taught  her  HOW  to  obtain  salt 
by  boiling  sea  water  Until  the  water  evaporated.  In 
a  cleverly  improvised  oven  which  he  built  fof  her, 
she  learned  how  to  bake  delicious  cakes  of  flour 
made  from  dried  and  pulverized  plantain  fruit.  She 
prepared  their  meals,  which  they  ate  together  at 

215 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

regulai  hours,  and  for  dessert  she  set  before  him 
plantains,  quinces,  limes,  and  cocoanuts  which  she 
herself  had  gathered  in  the  wood. 

This  constant  and  intimate  association  could  have 
only  one  result.  Every  day  it  brought  the  proud 
beauty  and  her  taciturn  companion  closer  than  would 
have  been  possible  under  any  other  conditions.  At 
times,  in  her  interest  in  the  work  of  the  moment, 
Grace  would  entirely  forget  their  difference  in  class. 
She  would  unbend  and  laugh  and  chat  with  him  as 
though  she  had  known  him  for  years.  Then,  an 
instant  later,  suddenly  conscious  of  their  respective 
positions  and  what  she  thought  she  owed  to  her 
own  dignity,  she  would  relapse  into  an  abrupt  si- 
lence and  draw  away  once  more,  cold  and  reserved. 
But  this  purely  artificial  demeanor  could  not  be  kept 
up.  A  few  hours  later,  obeying  her  natural  impulse, 
she  was  herself  again,  chatting  with  him  freely,  ask- 
ing his  opinion,  trying  to  please  him,  full  of  respect 
for  his  superior  judgment. 

Armitage  listened  to  her  ceaseless  prattle,  amused 
at  her  vivacity,  replying  gravely  to  her  questions, 
explaining  all  she  wished  to  know.  During  long, 

216 


idle  afternoons  they  would  sit  together  on  the  beach 
and  he  would  tell  her  stories  of  the  sea,  about  lands 
he  had  visited,  strange  people  he  had  seen,  while 
Grace,  curled  up  at  his  feet,  like  a  child,  listened 
with  breathless  attention. 

Thus  gradually,  almost  unconsciously,  their  mu- 
tual interest  in  each  other  grew.  They  became  neces- 
sary to  each  other.  Sharing  common  perils,  they 
naturally  sought  each  other's  companionship,  and  to 
Grace  as  much  as  to  Armitage  the  unconventional 
association  and  comradeship  was  as  delightful  as  it 
was  novel.  Grace  was  pleased  because  he  treated 
her  not  as  other  men  had  done,  as  a  toy,  only  to  be 
flattered  with  foolish  compliments,  but  as  a  woman, 
a  helpmate,  whose  opinion  was  worth  having. 

Greatly  to  her  surprise,  Grace  soon  found  herself 
taking  pleasure  in  this  bucolic,  semi-savage  sort  of  a 
life.  It  was  so  utterly  unlike  anything  which  she 
had  ever  known  that,  at  times,  she  thought  it  must 
be  all  unreal  and  that,  sooner  or  later,  she  would 
wake  up  from  what  was  only  a  fantastic  dream. 
But  it  was  real  enough.  She  had  only  to  glance 
around  her  to  realize  the  grim  truth.  There  was 

217 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

Armitage  a  short  distance  away  along  the  beach  try- 
ing with  a  crudely  made  net  to  catch  fish  for  their 
noonday  meal,  yonder  on  top  of  Mount  Hope  a 
column  of  black  smoke  was  ascending  to  the  blue 
sky — a  mute  and  urgent  summons  to  the  outer  world 
for  help — and  if  any  further  testimony  were  needed 
she  had  only  to  look  down  at  her  own  tattered  rags, 
scarcely  recognizable  now  as  a  gown,  to  bring  back 
with  vividness  all  that  had  happened  since  the  mo- 
ment the  typhoon  broke. 

Yet,  as  the  time  went  on,  with  rescue  no  nearer 
than  before,  Grace  seemed  each  day  more  resigned 
to  her  precarious  situation.  She  did  not  fret  so 
much.  Her  nervousness  disappeared  and  her  spirits 
became  more  buoyant.  There  were  moments  when 
she  even  felt  happy.  Armitage  was  quick  to  notice 
it,  and  by  the  way  he  smiled  as  he  greeted  her,  by 
the  almost  boyish  enthusiasm  he  went  about  his 
work,  it  was  evident  that  he  welcomed  the  change. 

Grace  was  surprised  herself.  At  first  it  alarmed 
her  to  note  her  growing  indifference.  She  could 
not  understand  the  reason.  Sensibly  she  argued 
that  she  could  not  be  always  fretting,  If  she  did, 

218 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

nervous  collapse  would  be  the  consequence.  It  never 
occurred  to  her  that  this  new  life  in  the  exhilarating- 
sea  air  explained  the  secret,  that  her  body  was  grow- 
ing more  healthy  and  normal  under  the  new  hygi- 
enic conditions^  and  that  as  her  body  changed,  her 
mental  outlook  changed  also.  The  discomforts 
which  she  had  to  put  up  with  were,  of  course,  many, 
and  her  anxiety  regarding  the  outcome  of  the  ad- 
venture as  poignant  as  ever,  yet  in  other  respects  it 
was  an  almost  ideal  existence. 

The  weather  was  perfect.  She  lived,  so  to  speak, 
in  a  bower  of  flowers,  in  idyllic  peace,  with  nothing 
to  disturb  the  general  serenity.  She  had  all  the  food 
to  eat  that  her  appetite  craved  for,  there  was  plenty 
of  crystal  spring  water  to  drink.  At  night  she  slept 
peacefully,  lulled  by  the  rhythmical  music  of  the 
waves  as  they  washed  lazily  against  the  shore,  and 
when  she  awoke  the  birds  were  singing  their  joyous 
notes  of  welcome  to  another  glorious  day.  It  was 
the  voluptuous  life  of  the  tropics  with  all  its  dreamy 
languor,  its  sensuous  charm. 

Constant  living  in  the  open  had  indeed  effected  a 
wonderful  improvement  in  her  personal  appearance. 

219 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Had  she  possessed  a  mirror  she  would  scarcely  have 
recognized  in  that  health-flushed  face,  tanned  by 
wind  and  sun,  the  pale  and  languid  girl  whose  con- 
dition had  alarmed  her  friends  in  New  York.  With 
her  large  dark  eyes,  clear  and  limpid,  her  lips,  red 
and  tempting  as  cherries,  her  glorious  hair  caught 
up  in  careless  knot,  her  bosom  fuller,  her  lines  more 
rounded,  her  walk  with  an  elasticity  it  had  never 
known  before — she  was  in  the  full  bloom  of  youth 
and  beauty.  Grace  herself  realized  the  change,  and 
vaguely  she  guessed  that  this  explained  the  new 
mental  attitude  she  had  assumed  toward  her  unfor- 
tunate position.  Not  only  in  body,  but  in  her  mind 
she  felt  more  vigorous.  Her  despondency  had  given 
place  to  a  pronounced  optimism.  She  took  keen 
interest  in  everything  taking  place  around  her.  She 
was  no  longer  peevish  and  irritable.  She  laughed 
and  chatted  with  the  spontaneous  gaiety  of  youth, 
and  if  it  were  not  for  a  constantly  gnawing  anxiety 
to  know  what  the  future  had  in  store,  to  communi- 
cate with  her  parents,  she  would  have  been  content 
to  go  on  living  like  this  for  months. 

Not  only  were  the  surroundings  ideal  and  con- 
220 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

ducive  to  real  happiness,  but  it  was  a  new  and  pleas- 
urable sensation  to  her  to  find  that  she  could  be  of 
some  use  in  the  world.  She  took  pride  in  doing  her 
share  of  the  work,  and  her  respect  for  herself  grew 
in  proportion  as  she  felt  that  her  services  were  ap- 
preciated by  Armitage.  Gradually  she  learned  to 
scrutinize  his  face  to  see  if  he  approved  what  she  had 
done,  and  if  she  saw  him  smile  she  beamed  with 
satisfaction. 

Long  ago  she  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  her 
companion  was  no  ordinary  man.  Not  only  was  he 
above  his  apparent  station  in  life,  but  he  possessed 
qualities  that  she  had  never  yet  detected  in  any  of 
the  men  she  had  met.  Not  only  was  he  handsome 
and  built  like  an  Apollo,  but  she  recognized  his  su- 
perior mentality.  He  was  born  for  leadership — 
that  was  evident  by  the  manner  in  which  he  had 
managed  things  on  this  island.  He  had  suffered 
in  life,  for  some  cause  which  he  kept  secret,  and 
had  been  forced  to  take  to  brutalizing  work.  But  it 
had  not  degraded  him.  He  was  kind  and  gentle, 
unselfish  and  brave. 

While  he  succeeded  in  concealing  his  own  past 
221 


life,  Armitage  was  less  successful  in  concealing  his 
interest  in  his  companion.  Grace's  feminine  tuition 
told  her  that  he  admired  her,  and,  although  she 
knew  that  socially  he  was  far  beneath  her,  she  was 
still  woman  enough  to  be  gratified.  Besides,  she  did 
not  seek  to  disguise  from  herself  the  fact  that  she  was 
strangely  attracted  toward  this  man.  He  had  about 
him  a  magnetism  which  she  could  not  explain.  Per- 
haps more  than  anything  else  it  was  the  very 
mystery  with  which  he  surrounded  himself  that  in- 
terested and  attracted  her.  She  found  herself  specu- 
lating strangely.  Suppose  he  had  been  a  man  of 
her  own  class,  would  she  marry  him?  Was  he  the 
type  of  man  she  could  love  ?  She  remembered  Pro- 
fessor Hanson's  queer  hypothesis  that  afternoon  on 
the  steamer.  Suppose  this  man  were  to  make  love 
to  her  and  insisted  on  the  ties  suggested  by  the  pro- 
fessor. What  could  she  do  to  protect  herself  ?  What 
could  she  do?  She  was  utterly  helpless.  There 
would  be  nothing  to  do  but  throw  herself  on  his 
generosity. 

It  annoyed  her  when  she  realized  how  much  her 
companion  entered  into  her  thoughts.    She  tried  not 

222 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

to  feel  lonely  when  he  was  away.  She  tried  not  to 
feel  pleased  when  he  returned.  But  she  knew  that 
she  was  lying  to  herself,  and  at  moments  it  terrified 
her  when  slowly  it  dawned  upon  her  that  her  strange, 
mysterious  companion  had  entered  into  her  most 
intimate  life.  Was  it  love?  She  laughed  at  the 
absurdity  of  the  idea,  and  to  show  her  indifference, 
so  Armitage  might  plainly  understand  the  difference 
in  their  positions,  she  forced  herself  to  seem  cold 
and  reserved.  He  noticed  the  sudden  change  in  her 
manner,  and,  unable  to  account  for  it,  thought  he 
must  have  displeased  her. 

One  day  he  had  gone  up  to  Mount  Hope  to  attend, 
as  usual,  to  the  signal-fire.  She  was  alone.  The 
day's  work  was  done,  and,  somewhat  fatigued,  she 
was  resting,  seated  on  the  verdant,  sloping  beach 
overlooking  the  sea.  At  her  feet  stretched  the  golden 
sands,  gently  laved  by  the  rippling,  transparent 
waves.  The  air  was  full  of  sweet  scents,  and  the 
temperature  so  warm  that  even  the  thinnest  clothing 
was  almost  unendurable.  Drowsy  from  the  heat, 
she  lay  under  the  grateful  shade  of  spreading  trees, 
and,  looking  out  over  the  glistening  ocean,  watched 

223 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

the  water  as  it  sparkled  in  the  sunlight.  Her  eyes 
half-closed,  her  entire  being  thrilled  by  a  novel  sen- 
sation of  languor,  she  abandoned  herself  to  the 
voluptuousness  of  the  place  and  moment.  Had  she 
been  alone,  with  no  one  to  see  her  and  no  danger  of 
a  sudden  surprise,  she  would  have  loved  to  divest 
herself  of  all  her  clothing  and,  nymphlike,  roll  nude 
in  the  golden  sands  like  the  woman  she  once  saw 
in  a  picture  called  "The  Birth  of  the  Wave."  Her 
form  was  physically  as  beautiful.  She  wondered 
if  Armitage  thought  her  beautiful — if  he  ever 
thought  of  her  at  all  as  men  think  of  women — and 
gradually  her  mind  wandered  in  strange  channels. 
As  she  lay  there  basking  in  the  ardent  sunshine, 
she  felt  the  pleasurable,  exhilarating  sensation  of  en- 
joying perfect  animal  health.  A  strange  feeling  of 
languor  came  over  her.  This,  she  knew,  was  happi- 
ness and  the  joy  of  life,  and  yet  she  felt  that  there 
was  still  something  lacking  to  make  that  happiness 
complete.  As  her  eye  dwelt  on  the  loveliness  of 
the  surrounding  scene,  perhaps  for  the  first  time  she 
understood  the  enthusiasm  of  those  nature  lovers 
who  are  content  only  when  in  the  country.  What, 

224 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

indeed,  were  the  artificial,  tawdry  delights  of  the 
man-made  cities  compared  with  the  delights  of  life 
in  the  God-made  fields  ?  She  thought  of  overheated 
ballrooms,  inane  afternoon  teas,  tiresome  bridge- 
parties.  What  were  they  compared  to  lying  there, 
listening  to  the  birds  singing  in  the  trees,  her  cheek 
gently  wafted  by  the  soft  sea  breeze,  the  pure  air 
filling  her  lungs  and  shading  the  damask  on  her 
cheek.  If  her  dear  old  dad  saw  her  he  would  hardly 
know  her. 

She  knew  what  her  life  lacked — love.  A  man 
whom  she  could  admire  and  respect,  a  man  who 
would  rule  her  with  his  iron  will  and  crush  her  if 
need  be  in  his  strong  arms.  Would  she  ever  meet 
such  a  man?  Had  she  already  met  him?  Once 
more  her  mind  conjured  up  the  picture  of  the  ideal 
man — the  man  of  her  day-dream  on  the  steamer. 
If  he  should  come  along  now,  would  she  have  the 
strength  of  will  to  resist  the  pressure  of  his  ardent 
lips.  Her  eyes  closed,  she  fancied  she  saw  him 
coming,  his  head  thrown  back,  straight  as  an  arrow, 
handsome  as  an  Apollo.  As  he  passed  he  stopped, 
fascinated  by  her  beauty.  He  came  nearer,  and 

225 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

with  a  cry  of  joy  clasped  her  closely  in  furious  em- 
brace. Weakly  she  tried  to  avoid  the  warm  kisses 
he  rained  on  her  too  willing  mouth.  As  she  turned 
she  chanced  to  see  his  face,  and,  starting  back,  she 
gave  a  cry.  It  was  a  face  she  knew.  Frightened, 
she  opened  her  eyes  and  sat  up.  Armitage  was 
standing  before  her. 

"Were  you  asleep?"  he  asked,  with  a  smile.  "I 
hope  I  didn't  disturb  you." 

"Where  have  you  been?"  she  asked,  embarrassed. 

"Up  on  Mount  Hope  tending  the  fire,"  he  replied, 
his  eyes  taking  in  every  detail  of  her  splendid  beauty. 
Her  hair  was  disarranged  and  her  bodice  open  at 
the  neck  because  of  the  heat.  He  thought  she  looked 
the  prettier,  and  he  was  only  human. 

"Nothing  in  sight,  I  suppose,"  she  asked. 

"No,  nothing,"  he  answered. 

She  rose  and,  going  to  the  cabin,  hastened  to  pre- 
pare their  supper. 

While  she  bustled  about  he  sat  quietly  and 
watched  her.  He  hoped  she  would  not  read  on  his 
face  the  happiness  that  was  in  his  heart. 

Yes,  she  had  guessed  aright.  He  was  happier  on 
226 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

this  desert  island  than  ever  before.  It  was  true  that 
he  had  no  wish  to  be  rescued.  For  him  rescue  meant 
going  back  to  purgatory,  while  this  was  Elysium. 
Never  in  all  his  life  had  he  known  such  happiness  as 
this.  Only  one  thing  was  lacking  to  make  his  happi- 
ness complete.  It  was  to  call  this  woman — wife. 
He  did  not  know  how  it  had  come  to  him,  but  he 
loved  her  with  a  fierceness  that  frightened  him.  He 
did  not  like  to  even  admit  it  to  himself  or  even  to 
think  of  it.  But  he  knew  that  he  must  have  this 
woman  or  his  life  must  end.  To  live  without  her 
was  impossible.  It  was  inconceivable.  He  had 
tasted  of  Heaven  these  last  few  weeks,  and  if  he 
lost  that  he  must  lose  everything.  Of  course  it  was 
an  impossible  dream.  She  was  rich.  When  she  left 
here  she  would  forget  him.  If  one  day  she  met  him 
in  New  York  she  would  even  disdain  to  look  at  him. 
He  clenched  his  fists  and  ground  his  teeth.  Why 
should  he  lose  this  happiness  that  had  come  to  him  ? 
He  wanted  this  woman.  No  one  should  rob  him  of 
her.  Even  if  it  cost  him  his  life  and  hers,  he  was 
determined  to  have  her  for  his  own.  Why  should 
he  be  denied  her?  Their  rescue  from  this  island 

227 


was  improbable,  if  not  impossible.  Ships  never 
passed  near  there.  It  was  too  far  from  the  beaten 
track,  too  full  of  hidden  dangers.  Navigators  knew 
that  and  gave  the  island  a  wide  berth.  He  had  lied 
to  her  to  reassure  her,  but  he  knew  rescue  was  out 
of  the  question.  They  would  spend  the  rest  of  their 
days  there.  The  days  would  lengthen  into  months, 
the  months  into  years.  Their  youth  would  go.  Old 
age  would  come.  Then  it  would  be  too  late,  and 
they  would  both  be  sorry.  Why  should  they  not 
mate  now?  He  remembered  the  mutineers  of  H. 
M.  S.  Botmty — a  true  story  of  the  sea  which  had 
always  fascinated  him.  The  men  revolted  and  killed 
their  officers  and  landed  on  an  island  inhabited  by 
savages.  They  killed  the  men  and  married  the 
women,  and  to  this  day  their  descendants  were 
sturdy  fishermen. 

Long  after  Grace  had  retired  to  rest,  Armitage 
sat  under  the  trees  alone  amid  the  silent  beauty  of 
the  tropical  night.  The  stars  in  their  countless  mil- 
lions shone  bright  and  resplendent  in  the  clear  at- 
mosphere. The  firmament  was  a  glorious  blaze  of 
light.  The  planets  flashed  like  suns,  and  changed 

228 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

color  as  he  gazed  at  them.  The  small  stars 
twinkled  more  humbly  in  a  milky  way  that  stretched 
across  the  heavens,  while  now  and  again  a  brilliant 
meteor,  outlaw  of  the  heavenly  host,  shot  across 
space  and  as  quickly  disappeared.  It  was  a  spectacle 
for  the  gods,  but  Armitage  heeded  it  not.  Lost  in 
meditation  of  things  more  earthly,  he  was  wonder- 
ing if  he  could  win  this  woman  for  himself,  how  he 
could  delay  the  dreaded  moment  which  would  take 

her  out  of  his  life. 

******* 

'  The  next  day  when  he  suggested  that  they  ex- 
plore their  lonely  domain  together,  Grace  readily 
consented  to  accompany  him.  Laughing  merrily 
and  chattering  like  a  magpie,  she  walked  briskly 
along  at  his  side.  The  day  was  ideal.  The  weather 
was  dry  and  clear,  with  an  invigorating  breeze  from 
the  sea,  and,  as  they  strode  along  in  the  dazzling 
sunshine,  Grace  felt  buoyant  with  health  and  exu- 
berant spirits. 

They  followed  the  coast-line,  making  their  way  in 
and  out  among  the  rocks.  From  the  interstices  of 
the  tall  cliffs  as  they  approached  flew  out  hundreds 

329 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

of  wild  sea-gulls  uttering  shrill  cries  of  alarm.  Ar- 
mitage  picked  up  a  stone,  but  Grace  stayed  his  arm. 

"It's  bad  luck  to  kill  one,"  she  said.  "Let  them 
live.  Besides,  they're  our  neighbors.  They're  the 
only  other  inhabitants  besides  ourselves." 

The  tide  was  out,  so  their  way  along  the  smooth 
sands  was  easy.  The  beach  was  covered  with  shells 
of  remarkable  luster  and  beauty,  and  Grace  insisted 
on  stopping  to  gather  some.  Presently  they  came 
to  a  creek,  with  stepping-stones  covered  with  slip- 
pery moss.  The  problem  was  how  to  get  across. 

"Come  along,"  said  Armitage,  leading  the  way. 

"I'm  afraid  I'll  fall  into  the  water,"  exclaimed 
Grace,  looking  ruefully  at  the  water. 

"No,  you  won't.     Take  my  arm,"  said  Armitage. 

They  went  across  together,  her  arm  closely  locked 
in  his. 

Suddenly  she  slipped.  If  she  had  not  been  hold- 
ing tight  to  his  arm,  she  would  have  fallen  into  the 
creek.  As  it  was,  she  was  badly  frightened,  and 
clung  more  nervously  to  him.  He  felt  her  warm 
body  pressed  close  against  his,  and  a  thrill  went 
through  him.  There  was  still  some  distance  to  go 

230 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

before  the  opposite  bank  was  reached.  Putting  his 
arm  round  her  waist,  Armitage  reassured  her. 

"You  won't  fall.  Just  keep  close  to  me  and  step 
as  I  step,"  he  said. 

He  felt  her  warm  breath  on  his  cheek.  His  head 
seemed  to  swim  round.  It  needed  all  his  self-control 
to  keep  his  equilibrium  and  get  across.  Finally  they 
reached  the  other  bank  in  safety. 

Leaving  the  beach,  they  clambered  up  the  rocks, 
to  the  higher  land,  where  they  found  an  abundance 
of  coarse  grass  with  ravines  and  hollows  choked  up 
with  a  luxuriant  growth  of  tropical  vegetation. 
They  entered  a  dense  wood,  almost  impenetrable 
with  tangled  foliage,  thick  undergrowth,  and  hidden 
roots  of  trees.  Carefully,  he  made  a  path  for  her, 
and  once,  when  they  came  to  a  running  stream  with 
no  way  to  ford  it,  he  had  to  lift  her  up  in  his  strong 
arms  and  take  her  across  like  a  baby.  Soon  they 
came  to  a  clearing,  sweet  with  the  odor  of  wild  or- 
chids and  jasmine.  Through  the  thick  foliage  of 
the  spreading  trees  they  had  glimpses  of  the  shim- 
mering surface  of  the  turquoise-blue  sea.  They  sat 
down  in  the  grass,  glad  to  rest  after  their  exertions, 

231 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

and  when  they  got  hungry  they  ate  the  provisions 
Grace  had  thoughtfully  provided.  It  was  a  delight- 
ful picnic,  and  Grace  laughed  with  glee. 

Armitage  had  plucked  a  plantain  and  was  eating 
the  fruit  when  suddenly  he  stopped  and  looked  fix- 
edly at  her. 

"Why  do  you  look  at  me  like  that?"  she  asked 
roguishly. 

"Because  you  are  nice  to  look  at,"  he  answered 
gravely.  "I  look  at  the  sea  because  it  is  beautiful. 
I  look  at  you.  You  are  beautiful." 

She  laughed  and  reddened.  The  compliment  was 
clumsy,  but  it  pleased  her  because  she  knew  he  meant 
it.  To  her  it  sounded  better  than  any  of  the  com- 
pliments paid  her  in  New  York's  drawing-rooms. 
To  change  the  conversation  she  said: 

"I  wonder  if  we  shall  ever  get  away  from  here  ?" 

He  said  nothing,  but  his  eyes  sought  hers.  After 
a  pause,  he  said  boldly: 

"I  don't  know.  To  be  quite  honest,  I'm  in  no 
hurry.  I'm  very  happy  here." 

Grace  made  no  reply.  This  time  she  did  not  even 
seem  angry. 

232 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

ANOTHER  fortnight  passed  and  still  no  sign 
from  the  great  wide  world  beyond  the  seas. 
The  days  came  and  went  with  monotonous 
regularity.  According  to  the  notches  on  Grace's 
shell  calendar,  which  she  had  made  carefully  with 
each  rising  and  setting  of  the  sun,  they  were  now 
well  on  toward  the  end  of  September.  Three  long 
months  had  gone  by  since  that  terrible  night  when 
the  hurricane  drove  the  ill-fated  Atlanta  on  the  reef. 
Would  a  ship  never  come?  This  question  Grace 
had  asked  herself  almost  hourly  until  gradually  the 
belief  came  firmly  rooted  in  her  mind  that  they 
would  never  be  rescued,  that  she  was  doomed  to 
spend  the  rest  of  her  life  in  this  unknown,  out  of 
the  way  island,  her  grief-stricken  parents  believing 
that  she  had  been  drowned  when  the  Atlanta  went 
down.  If  any  of  the  survivors  reached  land,  as  she 
supposed  some  of  them  did,  the  news  would  have 
been  instantly  cabled  to  America,  and  her  name 

233 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

would  be  listed  among  the  missing.  No  doubt  her 
father  had  long  given  her  up  for  dead.  It  would 
never  occur  for  him  to  come  in  search  of  her.  Nor 
was  there  much  chance  of  a  passing  vessel  ever  see- 
ing the  smoke  from  the  signal-fire.  As  Armitage 
had  said,  they  were  probably  hundreds  of  miles  out 
of  the  shipping  track.  In  all  probability  no  human 
being  had  ever  set  foot  on  that  islet  before. 

Yet  she  never  quite  lost  courage.  Each  day  she 
made  her  weary  pilgrimage  to  the  summit  of  Mount 
Hope  and  eagerly  scanned  the  horizon.  Only  dis- 
appointment awaited  her.  There  was  never  any- 
thing in  sight  to  bring  joy  to  her  heart. 

They  kept  the  big  signal-fire  going  just  the  same. 
Night  and  day  it  burned,  sending  its  flaming  mes- 
sage of  distress  over  the  vast  waste  of  heaving 
waters.  It  was  never  permitted  to  die  down.  Fresh 
fuel  was  piled  on  until  the  flames  leaped  high  in  the 
air  or  the  thick  black  smoke  went  curling  up  in  a 
long,  straight  column  to  the  sky.  Either  the  smoke 
or  the  blaze  must  be  seen  miles  away  at  sea.  Any 
moment  some  ship  might  turn  out  of  her  course  and 
come  to  investigate. 

234 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Otherwise  they  seldom  discussed  the  chances  of 
rescue.  By  mutual  consent  it  seemed  to  be  a  tabooed 
topic.  Armitage  never  failed  in  his  self-appointed 
task;  he  kept  the  fire  going  with  a  plentiful  supply 
of  driftwood,  but  that  was  all.  He  never  voluntarily 
mentioned  the  signal-fire  or  the  prospects  of  getting 
away,  and  intuitively  she  knew  that  it  was  a  subject 
that  was  distasteful  to  him.  If  he  took  the  pains  to 
keep  up  the  fire,  he  did  it  for  her  sake.  She  under- 
stood that,  and  she  was  mutely  grateful  to  him  for 
it.  In  return,  she  was  considerate  for  his  feelings. 
She  avoided  speaking  of  her  desire  for  a  ship  to 
arrive.  Occupied  with  their  daily  tasks,  they  never 
broached  the  subject.  When  he  went  up  the  hill  to 
attend  to  the  fire  he  was  always  alone,  and  she  tact- 
fully selected  a  time  when  he  was  occupied  about  the 
encampment  to  make  her  daily  climb  to  Mount 
Hope. 

What  if  help  did  not  come  ?  Could  they — he  and 
she — go  on  forever  living  together  like  this?  She 
was  an  intelligent  girl.  She  knew  that  the  present 
relations  between  herself  and  Armitage  were  artifi- 
cial, and  based  wholly  upon  the  conventions  of  or- 

235 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

ganized  society.  But  they  were  unnatural  relations, 
contrary  to  the  laws  of  nature.  In  her  heart  she 
knew  that  she  cared  more  for  this  strange,  silent 
man  than  she  dared  to  admit.  Yes,  he  was  the  man 
of  her  day-dreams,  the  man  she  had  waited  for,  the 
man  she  could  love.  She  did  not  ask  what  he  had 
been.  She  only  knew  him  as  he  was.  She  loved 
him  for  what  he  was.  He  was  poor,  he  was  not 
what  the  world  calls  of  gentle  birth,  yet  he  had  quali- 
ties that  in  her  eyes  raised  him  above  all  men  more 
favored  by  fortune.  He  was  one  of  nature's  noble- 
men. Some  great  secret  sorrow  had  wrecked  his 
life,  but  it  had  not  taken  from  him  his  sweetness  of 
character,  his  beauty  of  face  and  mind,  his  manly 
courage,  his  courtesy  to  a  lonely,  helpless  woman. 
She  loved  the  rich  tones  of  his  voice,  the  sad,  wist- 
ful gaze  in  his  fine  eyes  when  they  looked  silently 
into  hers.  She  knew  of  what  he  was  thinking.  She 
knew  the  dread  that  was  on  his  heart — the  dread 
of  a  misfortune  a  hundred  times  worse  than  any 
that  had  yet  embittered  his  life.  The  dread  that  one 

day,  sooner  or  later,  the  ship  would  come  to  carry 

236 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

away  from  him  forever  the  woman  who  had  once 
more  made  life  seem  worth  living, 
i  One  morning  Grace  was  sitting  sewing,  deftly 
plying  the  fish-bone  needle  which  Armitage  had 
made  for  her.  She  was  making  a  desperate  effort  to 
patch  up,  for  the  hundredth  time,  her  old  battered 
ball-dress,  which  now,  reduced  to  shreds,  scarcely 
covered  her  decently.  Armitage,  no  better  off  as 
regards  attire,  was  stretched  out  on  the  sands  near 
her,  watching  her  work.  It  was  a  domestic  scene. 
Any  stranger  chancing  to  pass  that  way  would  have 
taken  them  for  a  young  married  couple,  the  man 
evidently  a  fisherman,  the  woman,  his  wife,  doing 
the  household  mending.  A  short  distance  away  was 
their  cabin,  and  on  the  fire  close  by  the  iron  sauce- 
pan in  which  a  savory  mess  was  cooking  for  their 
noonday  meal.  Nothing  was  lacking  to  make  the 
picture  of  connubia1  felicity  complete. 

Some  such  thought  occurred  to  Armitage,  for 
suddenly  he  blurted  out : 

"Do  you  believe  in  marriage?" 

She  looked  up  in  surprise. 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"Do  I  believe  in  marriage?"  she  smiled.  "What 
a  singular  question.  Of  course  I  do." 

"What  do  you  understand  by  marriage?"  he  per- 
sisted. 

Grace  thought  for  a  moment  and  then  readily  re- 
plied : 

"Marriage  is  a  contract  entered  into  by  a  man 
and  woman  by  which  they  become  husband  and 
wife." 

Nodding  assent,  he  went  on: 

"That  is  to  say,  a  contract  entered  into  between 
themselves?" 

"Not  exactly,"  replied  Grace  hesitatingly.  "Rath- 
er I  should  say  an  act  before  a  magistrate  or  a  re- 
ligious ceremony  by  which  the  legal  relationship  is 
sanctioned  by  the  law  and  church." 

"Then,  without  such  act  or  ceremony,  you  would 
not  consider  a  marriage  binding  or  right?" 

"No,"  answered  Grace  emphatically. 

He  remained  silent  a  moment,  and  then  he  said : 

"But  suppose  a  man  and  a  woman  loved  each 
other  and  wished  to  enter  into  the  married  state, 
and  yet  were  so  placed  that  it  was  impossible  for 

238 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

their  union  to  have  the  sanction  of  either  the  law 
or  church,  what  then  ?" 

Grace  laid  down  her  work  and,  shaking  her  head, 
looked  gravely  at  her  interlocutor : 

"It  is  difficult  to  answer  such  a  question  offhand," 
she  said.  "I  think  it  would  depend  altogether  on 
the  circumstances  and  chiefly  on  the  personal  views 
of  those  directly  concerned.  Some  people  scoff  at 
marriage.  Among  them  are  many  of  my  own  sex. 
They  regard  marriage  merely  as  a  time-honored, 
worn  out  convention  which  really  means  nothing. 
They  get  married,  of  course,  not  because  they  believe 
in  it  as  an  institution,  but  as  a  matter  of  from,  be- 
cause their  mothers  did  it  before  them,  because  it  is 
the  thing  to  do.  But  not  unreasonably,  they  argue, 
that  nowadays  when  it  is  so  easy  to  obtain  a  divorce 
on  the  most  trivial  pretext,  there  is  not  much  left 
about  marriage  that  is  sacred  and  binding." 

He  listened  attentively.  When  she  ceased  speak- 
ing, he  asked  quietly : 

"And  what  is  your  view?  Do  you  indorse  these 
opinions  ?" 

"No,  I  do  not,"  she  replied,  meeting  his  steady 
239 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

gaze  frankly.  "I  believe  in  marriage.  I  think  it  is 
the  noblest  gift  that  civilization  has  bequeathed  to 
the  human  race.  It  marks  the  great  divide  between 
man  and  the  brute.  More  than  that,  it  protects  the 
woman  who  is,  naturally,  the  weaker,  and,  above  all, 
it  protects  the  offspring." 

"You  are  right,"  he  rejoined  quickly,  "yet  isn't  it 
curious  that  man  seems  happiest  under  monogamy, 
which  is  directly  contrary  to  nature.  Man  is  natu- 
rally polygamous." 

"Ah,  but  that  is  only  brute  love.  It  rests  on  noth- 
ing tangible.  Like  a  tiny  flame,  it  is  extinguished 
by  the  first  adverse  breath  of  wind.  Man  thinks 
he  is  polygamous.  But  that  is  only  the  beast  in  him 
— the  beast  with  which  his  better  and  higher  nature 
is  ever  at  war.  The  superior  man  learns  to  control 
his  appetites,  the  baser  man  indulges  them,  and 
therefore  is  nearer  to  the  tailed  ancestry  from  which 
he  originally  sprang.  That  is  not  love  as  I  under- 
stand it." 

He  leaned  quickly  forward. 

"How  do  you  understand  love  ?"  he  asked,  in  low, 
eager  tones. 

240 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Grace  smiled,  and,  poutingly,  she  protested : 
"Why  do  you  question  me  in  this  way  ?" 
Slightly  raising  himself  on  one  hand,  he  drew 
nearer  to  her  and  looked  steadily  up  into  her  face 
until  the  boldness  of  his  gaze  embarrassed  her.    Her 
cheeks  reddened,  and  she  lowered  her  eyes. 

"What  do  you  know  about  love?"  he  demanded 
hoarsely. 

"Every  woman  knows  or  thinks  she  knows,"  she 
replied,  with  affected  carelessness. 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  went  on : 
"Suppose  a  woman — say  a  friend  of  yours — loved 
a  man,  with  all  the  strength  of  her  heart  and  soul. 
Suppose  special  conditions  made  her  legal  union 
with  that  man  impossible.  Would  you  forgive  her 
if  her  great  love  tempted  her  to  give  herself  to  that 
man,  or  would  you  insist  that  she  should  suffer  and 
make  him  suffer — alone?" 

She  listened  with  averted  face.  Well  she  knew 
the  purport  of  these  questions.  But  her  face  re- 
mained impassive,  and  her  voice  was  calm  as  she 
replied  gently: 

"No  woman  may  sit  in  judgment  over  another 
241 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

woman.  No  woman  can  tell  positively  what  she 
might  do  under  all  circumstances.  The  temptation 
might  be  such  that  even  a  saint  would  succumb. 
That  reminds  me.  Do  you  know  the  story  of  the 
Abbess  of  Jouarre?" 

"No,"  replied  Armitage ;  "what  is  it  ?  Tell  it  me." 
He  settled  down  more  comfortably  in  the  sand  to 
listen.  Grace  smiled,  and  took  up  her  sewing  again. 
"It's  a  story  that  made  a  deep  impression  on  me," 
she  said.  "It  was  during  the  bloodiest  days  of  the 
French  Revolution.  On  the  Place  de  la  Concorde 
a  hundred  lives  were  being  sacrificed  on  the  guillo- 
tine daily  to  appease  the  savage  fury  of  the  popu- 
lace. Among  the  aristocrats  sentenced  to  death  and 
who  awaited  in  the  Temple  prison  their  turn  to  be 
summoned  to  the  scaffold  was  a  chevalier,  scion  of 
one  of  the  proudest  families  of  France  and  an  Ab- 
bess, a  woman  of  gentle  birth,  both  of  whom  had 
been  denounced  to  the  Revolutionary  tribunal. 
They  had  known  and  loved  each  other  as  children, 
and  they  met  in  prison  for  the  first  time  since  the 
Abbess  had  taken  her  vows.  Closely  associated 
within  the  dungeon's  grim  walls  they  soon  discov-^ 

242 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

ered  that  time  had  not  killed  their  youthful  infatua- 
tion. In  the  shadow  of  death  the  Abbess  was  will- 
ing to  admit  that  she  had  loved  the  chevalier  all  these 
years,  that  she  had  prayed  for  him  and  carried  his 
image  in  her  heart.  He  clasped  her  in  his  arms  and, 
pleading  his  unconquerable  passion,  he  urged  her  to 
forget  her  vows  and  give  herself  to  him.  Kindly, 
but  firmly,  she  withdrew  from  his  embrace  and 
gravely  recalled  hirn  to  a  sense  of  duty.  She  de- 
clared that  being  now  the  affianced  bride  of  Heaven, 
it  was  forbidden  for  her  to  even  think  of  earthly 
ties  or  joys.  But  the  chevalier  refused  to  listen  to 
reason  or  to  calm  his  ardor.  He  insisted  that  such 
love  as  theirs  was  sacred,  and  that  her  vows  to  the 
Church  did  not  bind  her,  now  that  she  was  about  to 
die.  In  another  few  hours  they  would  both  be  dead. 
Her  duty,  during  the  short  time  she  had  yet  to  live, 
was  to  yield  to  the  promptings  of  her  heart  rather 
than  to  heed  the  dictates  of  her  conscience.  Their 
union,  he  said,  would  be  a  marriage  before  God, 
and  after  their  earthly  death  they  would  be  united 
forever  in  Heaven.  The  Abbess  listened.  Her  great 
love  gradually  gained  the  mastery  over  her  mora) 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

scruples.  Her  opposition  weakened.  The  chevalier 
took  her  again  in  his  arms." 

Grace  ceased  speaking.  Armitage,  his  face  be- 
traying more  and  more  interest,  waited  for  her  to 
continue. 

"That  is  not  all,"  he  said  interrogatively. 

Grace  shook  her  head. 

"No,  now  comes  the  tragedy  of  it"  Continuing, 
she  went  on :  "The  next  day  the  prison  doors  were 
thrown  open,  and  brutal  jailers  read  out  the  lists  of 
names  of  those  prisoners  who  that  morning  must 
ride  in  the  fatal  death-cart.  Among  the  first  sum- 
moned was  the  chevalier.  Tenderly  he  bade  the 
Abbess  farewell.  Death  he  hailed  with  joy,  for  it 
marked  the  beginning  of  their  coming  felicity  in 
another  and  better  world.  He  disappeared,  and  the 
Abbess  awaited  her  turn.  Other  names  were  called, 
but  hers  was  not  among  them.  The  jailer  stopped 
reading  and  turned  to  depart.  The  Abbess  tremu- 
lously asked  when  her  hour,  too,  would  come.  The 
jailer  answered:  'You  go  free — by  order  of  the 

Tribunal/  " 

244 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Again  Grace  was  silent.  Armitage  seemed  lost 
in  thought.  Presently  he  said: 

"And  the  Abbess — what  became  of  her?" 

"She  had  to  bear  her  cross  for  her  great  sin.  Her 
punishment  was  worse  than  death.  Not  only  had 
she  broken  her  vows  and  offended  Heaven,  but  she 
was  separated  forever  from  the  man  to  whom  she 
had  given  her  love.  Cursed  by  the  Church,  shunned 
by  everybody,  she  wandered  miserably  from  village 
to  village,  leading  by  the  hand  a  little  child." 

Armitage  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then 
he  said: 

"You  were  reminded  of  this  story  by  some  re- 
mark you  had  previously  made :  What  was  it  ?" 

"I  said  in  answer  to  your  hypothesis  as  to  what  a 
woman  would  or  would  not  do  for  a  man  she  loved, 
that  even  a  saint  might  succumb,  given  certain  cir- 
cumstances. The  Abbess  was  a  saint.  Yet  she 
sinned." 

"I  don't  think  I  would  call  that  a  sin,"  objected 
Armitage.  "The  real  sinner  was  the  judge  who  par- 
doned her." 

245 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"Why  not  the  chevalier  who  tempted  her?"  re- 
joined Grace. 

He  made  no  answer,  but  remained  looking  stead- 
fastly at  her.  Then  rising  abruptly  to  his  feet,  he 
began  to  pace  nervously  up  and  down  the  sands. 
His  face  was  pale,  his  eyes  flashed,  the  muscles 
around  his  mouth  twitched.  He  gave  every  sign  of 
being  under  an  intense  emotional  strain.  There  was 
something  to  be  said,  and  he  dare  not  say  it.  It  was 
a  novelty  for  him  to  find  himself  lacking  in  courage. 
At  any  other  time  he  would  have  faced  a  tiger  about 
to  spring;  he  would  have  looked  without  flinching 
into  the  muzzle  of  a  leveled  rifle.  But  at  that  in- 
stant he  quailed  like  a  craven — he  dared  not  tell  this 
girl  that  he  loved  her  and  wanted  her  for  his  wife. 


246 


CHAPTER  XV 

HE  disappeared  and  Grace  did  not  see  him  again 
for  the  remainder  of  that  day.     All  after- 
noon she  waited,  expecting  each  moment  to 
see  him  reappear.    Not  wishing  to  be  away  in  case 
he  suddenly  returned  and  wanted  some  supper,  she 
omitted  her  customary  visit  to  Mount  Hope. 

At  first  she  did  not  mind  his  long  absence.  Busi- 
ly preoccupied  with  her  sewing  and  half  a  dozen 
other  tasks  about  the  camp,  the  time  passed  so 
quickly  that  she  hardly  noticed  it.  But  when  dark- 
ness commenced  to  fall  and  still  he  did  not  come,  she 
began  to  feel  uneasy.  He  had  not  told  her  that  he 
expected  to  be  gone  so  long.  Something  must  have 
happened.  Perhaps  he  had  met  with  an  accident 
and  at  that  very  moment  was  lying  hurt,  in  need 
of  assistance.  She  turned  hot  and  cold  by  turns 
at  this  thought.  Suppose  he  were  killed !  A  sudden 
choking  sensation  in  her  throat,  a  quickened  beating 
of  her  heart,  told  her  that  it  would  be  a  greater  mis- 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

fortune  than  any  that  had  yet  befallen  her.  If  she 
had  never  fully  realized  it  before,  Grace  knew  now 
that  this  man  had  come  to  be  part  of  her  own  life. 

Night  fell,  with  its  profound  silence  and  its  mys- 
terious sounds.  Nature  slept.  The  chirping  of 
crickets,  the  croaking  of  frogs,  the  mournful  sigh- 
ing of  the  wind  in  the  trees,  the  sullen  splash  of  the 
waves  on  the  sandy  beach,  were  the  only  audible 
sounds.  It  was  the  first  time  that  Grace  had  been 
left  so  long  alone  since  they  set  foot  on  the  island. 
In  the  daytime,  with  the  sun  shining,  the  birds  sing- 
ing and  everything  plainly  visible  for  miles  around, 
she  did  not  care.  But  the  darkness,  the  solemn  si- 
lence, the  strange  inexplicable  noises  she  heard  every 
now  and  again  in  the  wood — all  this  frightened  her. 
Everything  around  her  assumed  strange,  unfamiliar 
shapes.  At  one  time  she  thought  she  saw  some  ob- 
ject with  gleaming  eyes  approaching  the  cabin.  Her 
flesh  began  to  creep.  Terrified,  she  quickly  retreated 
inside  the  cabin  and,  barricading  the  door  with  table 
and  chairs,  crouched  down  by  the  window,  straining 
her  ears  to  hear  some  sound  of  Armitage. 

Suppose  something  had  happened  to  him!  Then 
248 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

she  would  be  quite  alone,  entirely  defenceless.  The 
mere  thought  of  such  an  eventuality  caused  the  blood 
to  freeze  in  her  veins.  How  could  she  be  alone  on 
that  desert  island?  She  would  go  stark,  staring 
mad.  Ah,  now  she  knew  what  his  companionship 
had  meant  to  her.  If  only  he  would  come  back,  she 
would  hardly  be  able  to  resist  the  temptation  to 
throw  her  arms  round  his  neck.  He  was  more  nec- 
essary to  her  every  day.  No  one  can  live  without 
human  companionship.  She  must  have  some  one  to 
talk  to.  Besides,  every  hour  it  dawned  upon  her 
more  strongly  that  she  loved  this  strange,  solitary 
man.  Even  at  this  moment  of  terror  it  was  love 
as  much  as  fear  that  racked  her  heart  with  anxiety 
and  anguish. 

Morning  was  just  breaking  in  the  east  when  all 
at  once  he  reappeared. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  she  asked  tremulously. 

She  averted  her  eyes  so  he  should  not  see  that  she 
had  been  weeping. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  answered  curtly. 

He  seemed  worn  and  tired.  His  boots  were 
muddy,  his  clothes  had  fresh  rents  and  stains.  He 

249 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

looked  as  if  he  had  been  trapming  through  the 
woods  all  night. 

"Will  you  eat  something?"  she  asked. 

"Don't  bother,"  he  replied.    "I'll  get  something." 

"It's  no  trouble,"  she  said.  Going  quickly  to  their 
simple  larder,  she  put  before  him  some  cold  fish  and 
plantain  cakes. 

He  ate  ravenously,  in  stubborn  silence.  When  she 
spoke  to  him,  he  replied  in  low  monosyllables.  His 
eyes  seemed  to  avoid  her  searching,  inquiring  gaze. 
Once  she  happened  to  turn  quietly  and  she  caught 
him  staring  at  her  in  a  strange  way.  His  manner 
somewhat  intimidated  her.  She  wondered  if  she 
could  possibly  have  done  or  said  something  to  dis- 
please him. 

It  grew  lighter  every  minute,  but  the  day  prom- 
ised to  be  gloomy.  The  sun  was  invisible  behind  a 
bank  of  mist,  and  the  entire  sky  was  overcast.  It 
looked  like  rain.  There  was  a  damp  chill  in  the  air. 
The  weather  seemed  in  harmony  with  Armitage's 
unaccountable  behavior.  Grace  felt  chilled  herself. 
She  had  a  presentiment  that  something  was  about 
to  happen.  Whether  it  would  affect  her  or  him  she 

250 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

did  not  know,  but  instinct  told  her  that  danger  of 
some  kind  threatened. 

Something  troubled  her  compaion,  that  was  cer- 
tain. What  its  nature  was,  she  could  not  guess. 
She  had  never  seen  him  so  moody  or  acting  so 
strangely.  But,  unwilling  to  put  herself  in  the  deli- 
cate position  of  asking  for  confidence  he  withheld, 
she  desisted  from  any  further  questioning,  and, 
leaving  him  alone,  went  to  her  cabin.  She  was  ex- 
hausted from  her  long  vigil  and  it  was  not  many 
minutes  after  she  threw  herself  down  on  the  bed 
before  she  was  fast  alseep. 

When  she  awoke  he  was  gone.  He  had  disap- 
peared mysteriously,  just  as  he  had  the  first  time, 
without  leaving  a  word  behind  or  a  single  indication 
to  tell  where  he  was  going,  or  how  long  he  would 
be  away.  Yet  he  had  not  entirely  forgotten  her. 
He  had  brought  a  fresh  supply  of  spring  water,  and 
before  the  door  of  her  cabin  she  found  some  freshly 
caught  fish  and  a  new  supply  of  plantains. 

Refreshed  after  her  sleep,  Grace  went  cheerfully 
about  her  usual  morning  tasks.  She  tidied  her 
cabin,  took  her  sea  bath,  and  prepared  the  noonday 

251 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

meal.  So  busy  was  she  that  Armitage's  new  absence 
remained  unnoticed.  In  fact,  she  dismissed  him 
from  her  mind.  If  she  thought  of  him  at  all  it 
was  to  wonder  vaguely  what  ailed  him,  and  speculate 
idly  how  long  his  mood  would  last.  By  the  time  the 
sun  was  directly  overhead,  her  work  was  done.  Ar- 
mitage  not  having  returned,  she  ate  her  meal  alone. 

It  was  no  use  waiting  around  any  longer,  so  she 
started,  after  dinner,  for  Mount  Hope.  For  two 
days  she  had  not  paid  her  regular  visit  to  the  signal- 
fire.  She  felt  a  sense  of  guilt,  as  if  she  had  neg- 
lected the  one  thing  which  alone  could  save  her. 
r  It  was  a  difficult,  laborious  climb  up  the  hill,  and 
she  was  compelled  to  rest  several  times  on  the  way 
to  the  summit.  She  looked  up  as  she  went,  trying 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  smoke  that  was  announcing 
to  the  whole  universe  that  two  human  beings  were 
in  need  of  immediate  relief.  She  could  not  see  the 
smoke,  owing  to  the  projecting  rocks  which  hid  the 
summit  from  view.  At  the  next  turn  she  would 
come  in  sight  of  it.  Up  and  up  she  went,  out  of 
breath. 

Every  now  and  then  she  halted  and  looked  back. 
252 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

At  this  height,  fully  500  feet  above  the  sea,  she 
commanded  a  superb  view  of  the  entire  island.  A 
few  barren  rocks  connected  by  grassy  and  thickly 
wooded  plateaus,  it  made  but  a  speck  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  wide  ocean.  Below,  under  the  shelter  of 
the  tall  cliffs,  she  saw  their  two  cabins  nestling  under 
the  trees.  Thinking  she  might  catch  a  glimpse  of 
Armitage,  she  strained  her  eyes  in  every  direction. 
But  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  There  was  not  a 
sign  of  life  anywhere.  Not  a  human  voice,  not  the 
bark  of  a  dog.  Even  the  birds  were  dumb.  Perfect 
stillness  reigned,  as  in  the  habitation  of  the  dead 

Never  so  well  as  now  had  she  realized  their  com- 
plete isolation.  Her  heart  sank.  Even  if  a  vessel 
passed,  how  could  she  hope  that  an  islet  as  small  as 
this  would  be  noticed  ?  A  sailing-master  would  not 
think  for  a  minute  that  it  harbored  survivors  of  a 
shipwreck.  Their  only  chance  of  attracting  atten- 
tion was  the  signal-fire. 

"Thank  God,"  she  murmured,  "that  we  had  the 
means  to  light  a  fire.  It  has  never  been  allowed  to 
go  out.  Night  and  day  it  sends  out  its  wireless  mes- 
sage for  aid!" 

253 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

She  resumed  her  climb  and  presently  reached  the 
summit.  Only  another  turn  in  the  road  and  she 
would  come  in  sight  of  the  huge  bonfire,  blazing 
and  crackling  as  it  sent  its  message  of  distress  far 
out  to  sea.  Impatient  to  see  it,  she  hastened  her 
steps,  almost  running,  in  her  anxiety  to  get  there. 
Round  the  bend  she  went  until,  breathless,  she 
emerged  on  the  broad  plateau. 

Suddenly  she  stopped  and  turned  pale.  Could 
she  have  mistaken  the  road  ?  No,  this  was  the  place. 
But  where  was  the  signal-fire?  The  spot  where  it 
had  burned  night  and  day  all  these  weeks  was  plain- 
ly visible.  The  grass  and  ground  all  around  was 
charred  and  blackened  by  the  flames,  but  of  the  fire 
itself  nothing  remained.  Some  giant  strength  had 
wreaked  its  fury  upon  it,  scattered  the  glowing  em- 
bers right  and  left,  drowned  it  out  with  water.  The 
signal-fire  was  extinguished ! 

Pale  and  trembling,  Grace  stood  rooted  to  the 
ground,  trying  to  understand.  Who  had  done  this  ? 
Why  had  he  done  it?  Of  course,  only  one  person 
could  have  done  it.  Was  this  the  explanation  of 
Armitage's  long  absence  the  previous  night  ?  Why 

254 


BY  RIG  PIT  OF  CONQUEST 

had  he  scattered  and  drowned  out  their  signal-fire? 

Her  face  flushed  with  anger.  Her  apprehension 
gave  place  to  indignation.  By  what  right  had  he 
presumed  to  take  this  step?  If  he  were  willing  to 
sacrifice  himself,  what  right  had  he  to  sacrifice  her? 

Turning  on  her  steps,  she  hastened  down  the  hill 
and  soon  reached  their  encampment.  He  was  there 
to  greet  her,  standing  with  folded  arms,  silent,  as  if 
he  knew  where  she  had  been  and  was  awaiting  the 
first  outburst  of  her  reproaches  and  anger. 


255 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  fire  is  out!"  she  cried,  as  she  came  with- 
in speaking  distance. 

"I  know,"  he  answered  stolidly.  His 
face  was  expressionless,  not  a  muscle  moved.  An 
observer  might  have  mistaken  him  for  a  figure  cast 
in  bronze. 

"How  did  it  go  out  ?"  demanded  Grace,  trying  to 
control  herself. 

Still  he  made  no  answer. 

"How  did  it  go  out  ?"  she  repeated.  "Did  you  put 
it  out?" 

Armitage  nodded.  Then,  with  a  defiant  toss  of 
his  head,  he  said : 

"Yes— I  put  it  out." 

Grace  stared  at  him  in  utter  astonishment,  scarce- 
ly able  to  believe  her  ears.  She  was  so  overwrought 
with  indignation  that  everything  seemed  to  swim 
before  her  eyes.  She  felt  weak  and  faint.  Fearing 
that  she  would  fall,  she  leaned  against  a  tree  for 
support. 

256 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"You  put  it  out!  You  put  it  out!"  she  gasped. 
"Why— tell  me  why." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  for  a  moment 
made  no  answer.  Then,  with  eyes  averted  from 
hers,  he  said  in  a  low  tone : 

"What's  the  use  of  letting  it  burn  any  longer? 
Nobody  will  see  it  if  it  burns  till  doomsday.  It 
might  burn  on  forever,  till  there  was  no  more  wood 
left  on  the  island  to  feed  it  with,  and  still  you'd  be 
here  eating  your  heart  out  waiting  for  help  that 
would  never  come.  It  was  labor  thrown  away." 

Unable  to  control  herself  any  longer,  Grace  burst 
out  passionately,  almost  hysterically. 

"So  that  is  it?  Because  it  was  hard  work,  you 
sacrifice  me!  Because  you  prefer  this  idle,  savage 
existence  to  the  hard  life  you  used  to  lead,  you  do 
not  wish  to  get  away.  I  must  spend  here  my  youth, 
the  rest  of  my  days  because  this  sort  of  life  pleases 
you.  And  you  don't  hesitate  to  destroy  my  only 
chance  of  relief  because  it  suits  you.  How  dare 
you  I  I  thought  you  were  a  man.  I  was  mistaken. 
A  true  man  would  not  take  advantage  of  a  helpless 
woman's  misfortune  to  further  his  own  selfish  inter- 

257 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

ests.  You  are  free  to  stay  in  this  lonely  spot  if  you 
choose,  but  I  will  not.  I  refuse  to  sacrifice  myself. 
I  will  go  away  in  spite  of  you.  I  don't  know  how, 
but  I  will  find  some  way,  and  when  I  get  back  among 
my  friends  I  shall  tell  them  how  a  man  treated  a 
poor  defenceless  girl." 

He  made  a  step  toward  her,  as  if  about  to  say 
something,  when  she  retreated  and  exclaimed : 

"Don't  come  near  me!"  she  cried,  almost  hys- 
terically. "I  hate  you.  I  won't  let  you  address  me 
again  until  that  fire  is  lighted." 

She  sank  down  on  the  stump  of  a  tree  and,  bury- 
ing her  face  in  her  hands,  gave  way,  womanlike,  to 
a  torrent  of  tears.  When  the  hysterical  spell  had! 
passed,  he  was  still  standing  humbly  before  her, 
looking  down  at  her,  with  a  sad,  set  expression  on 
his  face. 

"Won't  you  listen  to  me?"  he  said. 

"I  won't  listen  to  anything  until  you  have  lighted 
the  fire  once  more,"  was  her  stubborn  reply. 

Overhead  the  sun  suddenly  broke  through  the 
heavy  gray  clouds.  The  mists  slowly  lifted.  Once 
more  land  and  water  were  bathed  in  a  flood  of  cheer- 

258 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

ing  sunshine.  Grace's  moods  were  mercurial.  All 
that  morning  she  had  been  particularly  depressed 
because  of  the  weather.  As  Nature  put  on  a  fairer 
garb,  her  spirits  rose.  She  now. f eh  sorry  she  had 
spoken  so  harshly  to  him.  At  least,  she  might  have 
given  him  a  chance  to  explain. 

"Won't  you  listen?"  he  asked  again. 

He  spoke  pleadingly,  without  anger,  the  rich  tones 
of  his  voice  trembling  with  suppressed  emotioa. 
Standing  bareheaded,  the  sun  falling  full  on  his 
tanned  face  and  neck,  he  looked  strikingly  handsome. 

"Why  did  you  extinguish  the  fire  ?"  she  demanded 
again  in  a  low  and  more  conciliatory  tone. 

Leaning  over  toward  her,  he  said: 

"Can't  you  guess  the  real  reason?" 

"Because  of  the  trouble — you  said  as  much." 

He  shook  his  head  and  there  was  a  note  of  re- 
proach in  his  voice  as  he  replied: 

"You  don't  think  that  is  the  reason.  You  ought 
to  know  that  I  should  consider  no  task  too  irksome 
if  it  would  add  to  your  happiness." 

He  spoke  so  earnestly  that  Grace  looked  up  at 
him  in  surprise.  What  did  he  mean?  His  eyes 

259 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

met  hers  without  flinching.  He  was  silent.  She  saw 
he  wanted  to  say  something  and  hesitated.  She 
knew  not  why,  but  there  was  something  disturbing 
in  this  man's  silent,  persistent  gaze. 

"What  is  the  real  reason  ?"  she  murmured,  at  last. 

"Can't  you  guess?"  he  demanded  hoarsely. 

"No,"  she  replied,  outwardly  calm,  but  with  mis- 
givings within. 

"Because  I  love  you!"  he  cried  passionately. 

He  sprang  eagerly  forward,  as  if  about  to  take 
her  in  his  arms.  Grace,  startled,  fell  back. 

"You  love  me?"  she  repeated  mechanically. 

"Yes,  I  love  you — I  love  you !"  he  repeated  wildly. 
"Haven't  you  seen  it,  haven't  you  felt  it  all  along?" 

The  color  fled  from  her  cheeks.  Her  lips 
trembled.  The  crucial  moment  which  she  had 
dreaded  had  arrived  at  last. 

"If  you  love  me,"  she  said,  with  a  forced  smile, 
"you  have  a  curious  way  of  showing  it.  You  know 
that  all  my  hopes  centered  on  that  signal-fire,  and 
yet  wilfully,  deliberately,  you  destroyed  it.  If  you 
love  me,  why  did  you  do  that  ?" 

"Because,"  he  said  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  "I  w«>$ 
260 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

afraid  that  some  ship  might  see  the  blaze  and  come 
and  take  you  away.  I  love  you  so  much  that  I'd 
stop  at  nothing.  You  are  the  first  woman  I've  ever 
loved.  You  don't  know  what  that  means  to  me. 
When  a  man  of  my  age  loves  for  the  first  time,  the 
force  of  his  passion  frightens  him.  These  last  two 
days  and  nights  I  have  purposely  avoided  you.  I 
have  tried  to  control  and  master  myself.  I  have 
tried  to  forget  you,  to  banish  you  from  my  thoughts. 
All  last  night  I  tramped  through  the  woods,  trying 
to  persuade  myself  that  it  was  an  impossible  dream, 
that  such  happiness  could  never  befall  such  a  poor 
devil  as  I.  But  I  could  not — I  could  not.  In  each 
tree  I  saw  your  dear  face,  in  every  sigh  of  the  wind 
I  heard  the  plaintive  sounds  of  your  sweet  voice. 
Then,  suddenly,  I  caught  sight  of  the  blaze  on  that 
hill.  Instantly  I  felt  it  was  my  enemy.  I  knew  that 
if  a  ship  came  I  would  lose  you.  I  realized  that 
it  would  mean  the  end  of  my  happiness.  Maddened 
by  the  thought,  I  was  seized  by  a  sudden  fury.  I 
ran  all  the  way  up  to  the  top  of  the  hill  and  trampled 
it  out.  Can't  you  understand  that  I  don't  want  to 
lose  you,  that  I  don't  want  you  to  go?" 


BY  RIG  PIT  OF  CONQUEST 

Grace  listened,  her  face  flushed.  When  he  ceased 
speaking,  she  said  gently : 

"Any  woman  would  feel  pleased  and  honored  at 
what  you  say.  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me.  I 
shall  never  forget  what  I  owe  you.  I  am  deeply 
grateful.  I  shall  always  remember  you."  Hesi- 
tatingly she  added :  "It  may  be  that  you  are  right — 
that  a  ship  will  never  come — what  then  ?  What  do 
you  want  me  to  do  ?" 

"To — to  be  my  wife!"  he  replied  quickly  and 
eagerly. 

Grace  gasped.  She  was  not  without  a  sense  of 
humor  and  the  incongruity  of  the  situation  was  at 
once  apparent  to  her.  Really  he  went  too  far.  He 
was  making  her  a  serious  proposal  of  marriage. 
This  sailor,  fireman,  stoker,  or  whatever  he  might  be, 
was  actually  asking  the  heiress  to  millions,  one  of 
the  prizes  of  New  York's  matrimonial  market — 
to  be  his  wife !  It  was  too  absurd.  Only  the  grave, 
pleading  expression  in  Armitage's  face  deterred  her 
from  laughing  outright.  If  any  of  her  set  in  New 
York  heard  of  it,  they  would  chaff  her  without 
mercji 

262 


"How  handsome  he  is!"  she  murmured  to  herself 
as  she  looked  at  him.  "What  a  pity  we  are  not  so- 
cial equals!" 

She  was  sorry  for  him,  of  course,  but  it  would  be 
kinder  if  she  put  him  at  once  in  his  place  and  made 
him  understand  the  hopelessness  of  his  position. 

"Do  you  hear?"  he  said  hoarsely,  his  voice  quiv- 
ering from  suppressed  emotion.  "I  want  you — I 
want  you  to  be  my  wife !" 

Grace  drew  herself  up  with  the  air  of  offended 
dignity  of  a  queen  hurt  in  her  pride.  Her  gown  was 
in  tatters,  her  lovely  hair  hung  loose  over  her  snow- 
white  shoulders.  With  her  cheeks  slightly  flushed 
and  her  large  dark  eyes  dilated  and  more  lustrous 
from  excitement,  never  had  she  appeared  to  him 
more  beautiful  or  desirable.  Like  a  trembling  felon 
at  the  dock  waiting  to  hear  the  judge  pronounce  his 
fate,  Armitage  waited  for  her  answer. 

"Your  wife?"  she  replied  not  unkindly.  "Do  you 
know  what  I  am,  do  you  realize  what  position  I  hold 
in  society?  Don't  you  know  that  my  father  is  one 
of  America's  kings  of  finance,  that  his  fortune  is 
twenty  millions,  and  that  our  winter  and  summer 

263 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

homes  are  among  the  show-places  of  Fifth  Avenue 
and  Newport?  Don't  you  know  that  I  spend 
$10,000  a  year  on  my  dress,  that  I  have  a  dozen 
servants  to  run  at  my  call,  that  my  carriages,  my 
horses,  gowns  and  jewels  furnish  endless  material 
for  the  society  reporters  of  the  yellow  journals? 
Men  have  proposed  to  me — men  of  means,  men  of 
my  own  class.  I  refused  them  all  because  they 
hadn't  money  enough."  With  a  scornful  toss  of  her 
head,  she  added:  "I  despise  a  husband  who  looks 
to  his  wife  for  support." 

Armitage  had  listened  patiently  until  now,  out 
her  last  words  aroused  him.  Suddenly  interrupting 
her,  he  broken  in: 

f  "You  refused  them  not  because  they  weren't  rich 
enough,  but  because  you  didn't  love  them.  You 
can't  deceive  me.  I  haven't  watched  and  studied 
you  all  these  weeks  for  nothing.  You  aren't  as  shal- 
low and  heartless  as  you  pretend.  You  are  too  in- 
telligent to  find  pleasure  in  Society's  inane  pastimes. 
You  admitted  to  me  yourself  that  something 
seemed  lacking  in  your  life.  Shall  I  tell  you  what 
it  is?" 

264 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

He  advanced  closer  and,  looking  fixedly  at  her, 
went  on: 

"I  can  read  the  secret  in  your  beautiful  eyes — 
the  windows  of  your  soul.  Shall  I  tell  you  what 
your  heart  desires?  You  are  love-hungry.  Your 
whole  being  cries  out  for  love.  Not  the  infamous 
traffic  in  flesh  and  honor  which  receives  the  bless- 
ing of  fashionable  churches,  but  the  pure,  true,  un- 
selfish, ideal  love  that  thrills  a  man  and  woman 
under  God's  free  sky.  What  good  are  your  father's 
millions  here?  What  do  I  care  about  your  houses, 
your  gowns  and  your  jewels?  Here,  stripped  of 
everything  but  your  own  sweet  lovable  nature,  you 
are  only  a  wx>man — a  woman  I  love  and  want  to  call 
mine  own." 

His  voice  held  her  spellbound.  The  tone  of  au- 
thority in  his  words  weakened  her  will-power.  His 
ardent  eyes,  looking  tenderly  into  hers,  fascinated 
her.  She  felt  that  the  odds  were  fearfully  against 
her.  It  required  all  her  moral  strength  to  resist  his 
pleading,  yet  there  was  nothing  here  to  which  she 
could  cling.  At  home,  in  New  York,  she  could  take 

UM 

refuge  behind  a  hundred  excuses.     The  polite  con- 

265 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

ventions  of  society  would  lend  her  support.  But 
here  alone  on  this  lonely  island  with  this  man  whom 
she  knew  in  her  heart  she  loved,  this  man  who  in« 
sisted  on  frank  explanations,  straightforward  an- 
swers, the  odds  were  fearfully  against  her.  She  felt 
herself  weakening. 

"Please  don't,"  she  murmured  confusedly.  "It's 
utterly  impossible.  Don't  you  see  how  impossible 
it  is — even  if  I  did  care  for  you?  In  a  short  time 
a  ship  will  come.  We  shall  be  taken  off.  We  shall 
go  back  to  New  York.  Each  of  us  will  resume  the 
old  life,  and  this  adventure  will  be  only  a  memory." 

Armitage  laughed  cynically,  and  he  made  a  ges- 
ture of  impatience.  His  manner  suddenly  changed. 
He  assumed  the  old  tone  of  superiority  which  she 
had  noticed  when  they  first  landed  on  the  island. 

"Don't  deceive  yourself,"  he  said  abruptly. 
"Some  day  things  must  be  understood  as  they  are, 
and  it  might  just  as  well  be  now." 

He  stopped  and  looked  at  her  strangely. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  demanded  Grace  uneasily. 

"I  mean,"  he  went  on  slowly,  "that  no  ship  will 
266 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

come.  We  shall  never  go  back.  The  rest  of  our 
days  must  be  spent  here  together." 

He  spoke  with  such  authority,  such  conviction, 
that  Grace  felt  that  he  had  good  grounds  for  what 
he  said.  Her  face  paled  and  a  feeling  of  faintness 
came  over  her. 

"How  do  you  know?"  she  demanded,  with  tears 
in  her  eyes. 

"I've  known  it  all  along,"  he  replied. 

"But  didn't  you  say  that  whaling-vessels  made 
these  waters  their  fishing-grounds?"  she  persisted. 

"I  lied,"  he  answered  frankly.  "I  was  sorry  for 
you,  so  I  invented  that  fiction." 

"Then,  the  signal-fire  was  useless!"  she  cried,  al- 
most hysterical. 

He  nodded. 

"Yes — utterly  useless.  I  kept  it  up  only  to  please 
you.  There  isn't  one  chance  in  a  thousand  of  it 
ever  being  seen.  You  had  to  be  told  the  truth  some 
time." 

Grace  stood  listening  to  him,  completely  over- 
whelmed, as  if  in  a  trance.  In  these  few  brief  mo- 
ments he  had  destroyed  every  hope  which  she  had 

267 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

nourished  for  weeks.  All  her  watching  and  waiting 
and  praying  had  been  in  vain.  She  was  doomed 
to  spend  the  rest  of  her  days  on  this  lonely  island — 
with  him!  Her  head  seemed  in  a  whirl.  She  felt 
dizzy  and  faint.  Then  she  tried  to  collect  her 
thoughts  to  reason  it  out,  to  picture  the  future. 
Suppose  it  was  true,  suppose  they  had  to  stay  there 
together  forever.  How  would  it  affect  her  ?  What 
would  their  life  be  as  the  years  went  on?  They 
would  gradually  change  their  habits.  The  culture 
and  careful  training  of  her  youth  would  soon  be  for- 
gotten. Removed  from  the  refining  influence  of  civ- 
ilization, she  and  Armitage  would  slowly  degener- 
ate, they  would  revert  to  the  semi-savage  condition 
of  their  prehistoric  forbears.  In  time,  the  last  rem- 
nant of  their  clothes  would  go,  they  would  be  obliged 
to  make  clothes  of  animals  skins  or  of  plantain 
leaves.  They  would  cease  cooking  their  food,  find- 
ing greater  relish  in  devouring  it  raw.  Their  hair 
would  grow  long  and  matted,  their  hands  would 
look  like  claws.  They  might  even  lose  the  power 
of  speech  and  if,  in  years  to  come,  a  ship  chanced 
to  touch  at  the  island,  they  would  find  two  gibbering 

268 


human-like  creatures  who  had  forgotten  who  they 
were  and  where  they  came  from. 

She  gave  a  low  moan  of  despair.  Armitage  ap- 
proached her.  She  looked  up  at  him  appealingly: 

"Is  there  no  hope  at  all?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"No— none." 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  He  could 
see  that  she  was  weeping. 

"Don't  cry,"  he  said  gently.  "It's  no  use  fret- 
ting. We  can't  fight  fate."  Tenderly  he  added: 
"Do  you  understand  now  why  I  said  I  loved  you? 
Do  you  think  I  would  have  dared  if  I  thought  we 
should  ever  get  away?  I  told  you  because  I  knew 
we  must  spend  our  lives  in  lonely  solitude,  and  I 
knew  we  could  not  go  on  living  as  we  have  been. 
I  want  you  for  my  wife.  You  cannot  object.  The 
obstacles  you  mentioned  no  longer  exist." 

Grace  started  to  her  feet.  There  was  a  note  of 
defiance  and  alarm  in  her  voice  as  she  replied : 

"If  I  must  stay  here  and  die  here,  I  will.     God's 

will  be  done.    But  I  will  live  as  I  think  is  right,  as 

269 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

I  would  live  anywhere  else.     Being  here  alone  with 
you  makes  no  difference." 

He  folded  his  arms  and  looked  at  her  boldly. 

"It  does  make  a  difference,"  he  said  slowly  and 
firmly.  "We  are  here — a  man  and  a  woman — alone 
on  a  desert  island  amid  the  eternal  silence  of  the 
mighty  ocean.  There  are  only  two  of  us.  We  are 
all  the  world  to  each  other.  Our  future  days  must 
be  spent  together  in  the  closest  intimacy.  We  can- 
not go  on  living  as  though  we  were  strangers.  It 
isn't  natural.  You  ought  to  be  able  to  see  that.  The 
objections  you  mentioned  would  keep  us  apart  under 
ordinary  conditions,  but  here  the  conditions  are  al- 
together different.  You  are  no  longer  the  courted 
heiress,  the  society  favorite.  You  are  a  woman  and 
I  am  a  man.  The  artificial  conventions  to  which 
you  cling  have  no  place  on  this  island.  Here  we  are 
living  amid  primitive  conditions.  Nature  gave 
woman  to  man — she  was  intended  to  be  his  mate, 
his  companion.  I  assert  my  rights  as  the  male." 

He  spoke  harshly,  in  a  tone  of  command,  as  if  he 
allowed  her  to  have  a  say  in  the  matter,  but  intended 
to  have  his  way  in  the  end,  after  all. 

270 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Grace  found  herself  listening  passively.  She  won- 
dered why  she  did  not  burst  out  with  indignation 
when  he  thus  disposed  of  her  as  if  she  were  his 
goods,  his  chattel.  Yet,  secretly,  it  pleased  her  to 
have  him  assume  this  tone  of  ownership.  The  men 
in  society  who  had  fawned  upon  her  were  tame, 
weak,  despicable  creatures,  ready  to  lick  her  hand 
for  a  smile.  This  was  a  real  man.  He  gave  her 
orders.  He  told  her  what  he  wished  her  to  do,  and 
he  said  she  must  do  it.  As  she  listened  to  his  rich, 
musical  voice  she  thought  to  herself  that,  after  all, 
he  was  right.  Sooner  or  later  it  must  come  to  that. 
The  years  would  pass.  They  would  get  old  to- 
gether. Would  it  not  be  more  natural,  would  not 
their  lives  be  happier  if  they  mated  and  had  children 
to  be  the  joy  of  their  reclining  years? 
•  Armitage  boldly  took  her  hand.  She  did  not  re- 
sist. She  had  not  the  strength.  This  man  had 
strangely  paralyzed  all  her  will-power. 

He  drew  her  fiercely  to  his  breast  and  whispered 
ardently : 

"I  love  you,  Grace!     I  love  you!" 

His  warm  breath  was  upon  her  cheek.     She  fel* 
271 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

his  strong  body  pressed  close  against  hers.  A  sud- 
den feeling  of  vertigo  came  over  her. 

"I  love  you — I  love  you!"  he  repeated  wildly, 
crushing  her  slender  form  in  his  powerful  arms. 

She  made  no  attempt  to  resist,  but  remained  pas- 
sive in  his  caress,  as  if  a  prisoner  who  knew  there 
was  no  hope  of  escape.  Yet  there  was  no  indication 
of  anger  on  her  face.  Why  shouldn't  she  love  this 
man?  If  their  lives  were  to  be  spent  together,  she 
must  be  his  helpmate,  his  companion.  Besides,  she 
knew  she  was  lying  to  herself.  She  did  love  him — 
with  all  her  soul.  This  was  the  man  she  had  been 
waiting  for,  the  man  who  would  have  the  courage 
to  overcome  her  resistance,  to  take  her  fiercely  in  his 
arms  and  cry  "I  love  you — I  want  you !" 

She  closed  her  eyes,  her  head  fell  back.  He 
leaned  forward  until  his  lips  almost  touched  hers. 
Why  did  he  hesitate  ?  Why  didn't  he  take  the  prize 
which  was  already  his?  He  felt  her  warm  body 
vibrating  with  the  passion  his  ardor  had  awakened. 

"I  love  you — I  love  you!"  he  cried.  "Grace,  tell 
me — will  you  be  mine?" 

Her  eyes  were  closed.  Her  head,  with  its  wealth 
272 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

of  luxuriant  hair  all  loose,  fell  back  on  his  shoulder. 
Her  face  was  upturned,  her  lips  half  parted.  Trem- 
bling with  emotion,  he  leaned  forward.  His  mouth 
slowly  approached  hers  for  the  kiss  which  was  to 
seal  their  union,  when  suddenly  he  heard  a  shout. 

"Ahoy  there!     Ahoy  there!" 

The  sound  of  a  human  voice  in  that  deserted  spot 
was  so  utterly  unexpected,  so  entirely  unlocked  for, 
that  for  a  moment  Armitage  and  Grace  started  back 
in  alarm.  Armitage  thus  rudely  aroused  out  of  his 
day-dreams,  hurried  forward  to  investigate. 

"Ahoy  there!  Ahoy  there!"  came  the  shout 
again. 

There  was  no  mistake  this  time.  Some  one  was 
calling,  in  English. 

Presently  they  saw  half  a  dozen  sailors  clamber- 
ing over  the  rocks  and  running  toward  them.  They 
were  Americans. 

Grace  sank  to  her  knees. 

"Thank  God!"  she  murmured.  "Rescued  at 
last!" 

A  boatswain  and  five  sailors  came  up,  looking 
with  interest  at  Armitage  and  Grace. 

273 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"Who  are  you  ?"  cried  out  the  boatswain,  as  they 
approached. 

Armitage  went  forward. 

"We  were  wrecked  on  the  Blue  Star  Steamship 
Atlanta,  which  went  down  in  a  hurricane  on  those 
reefs  about  six  weeks  ago." 

"Passengers  ?"  asked  the  boatswain. 

Armitage  hesitated.  Then,  pointing  to  Grace,  he 
said: 

"This  lady  was  a  cabin  passenger." 

"And  you?"  demanded  the  man. 

"Stoker,"  replied  Armitage  grimly. 

The  other  sailors  looked  at  each  other  and 
laughed. 

"We  landed  to  get  water,"  explained  the  boat- 
swain, "and  chanced  to  stumble  across  human  foot- 
prints. Knowing  the  island  was  deserted,  we  de- 
cided to  follow  up  the  tracks.  And  here  we  are. 
I  guess  you're  glad  to  see  us." 

Armitage  was  silent. 

"Thank  God !"  murmured  Grace.  "Where  is  your 
ship?  What  is  it?" 

"The  Saitcy  Polly,  of  Boston,  Mass.,  and  as  fine 
274 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

a  whaler  as  you  ever  saw.  We're  anchored  on  the 
other  side  of  the  island.  I  guess  that's  why  you 
didn't  see  us." 

"An  American  ship — God  be  praised,"  murmured 
Grace,  clasping  her  hands.  "Will  you  take  us 
home?" 

"That  we  will,  Miss.  We  couldn't  leave  you 
here." 

Overcome  with  emotion,  Grace  suddenly  burst 
into  tears. 


275 


CHAPTER  XVII 

FIFTH  AVENUE  presented  its  customary  ani- 
mated and  brilliant  picture  of  refined  cos- 
mopolitan life.    The  sidewalks  were  crowded 
to  the  curb  with  stylishly  dressed  promenaders,  the 
roadway  blocked  with  smart  automobiles  and  hand- 
some equipages.    The  all  New  York  of  fashion  and 
wealth  was  taking  its  afternoon  sunning. 

For  the  foreigner  making  a  study  of  our  national 
manners,  the  Avenue's  five-o'clock  parade  any  fine 
afternoon  during  the  season  presents  a  scene  as 
typically  American  as  he  may  expect  to  find.  Here 
in  this  one  narrow,  splendid  thoroughfare,  stretch- 
ing in  a  noble  line,  as  the  crow  flies,  from  Twenty- 
third  Street  away  up  to  the  Nineties,  is  concentrated 
the  fabulous,  incalculable  wealth  of  the  United 
States.  Here,  side  by  side,  dwell  the  Rockefellers,  the 
Carnegies,  the  Vanderbilts,  the  Astors,  the  Goulds, 
the  Harrimans,  the  Morgans,  the  Whitne.ys,  and 
other  giants  of  finance,  whose  fortunes  aggregate 
thousands  of  millions  of  dollars !  Lined  on  either  side 

276 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

of  the  street  with  the  marble  palaces  of  its  multi- 
millionaires, its  roadway  jammed  with  carriages  and 
automobiles  kept  in  order  by  picturesque  mounted 
police,  its  sidewalks  thronged  with  pretty,  stylish 
girls,  and  men  and  women  famous  in  art,  music, 
politics,  science  and  literature — New  York's  most 
exclusive  thoroughfare  is  perhaps  the  one  place 
where  the  American  plutocracy  is  on  exhibition  in 
all  its  aggressive  opulence.  The  show  street  of  New 
York,  it  is  not  laid  with  rails  for  electric  cars  like 
other  thoroughfares  of  the  metropolis.  Wagons 
and  trucks  not  having  special  business  there  are 
forbidden  to  traverse  it.  The  poor  man  understands 
that  it  is  the  exclusive  domain  of  the  very  rich,  that 
he  has  no  place  there,  and  that  if  he  appears  on  its 
sacred  pavements  he  is  apt  to  be  looked  upon  as  an 
audacious  intruder. 

Armitage  rested  from  his  work  and  looked  around 
him,  dazed  by  the  bustle  and  noise.  The  gay,  busy 
city  was  such  a  contrast  with  the  quiet,  peaceful  life 
he  had  led  for  the  past  few  months  that  the  sudden 
change  was  startling.  It  had  all  the  attraction  of 
novelty.  The  afternoon  parade  was  at  its  height, 

277 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

and  he  was  interested  watching  the  promenaders. 
Never  had  he  seen  so  many  pretty  girls.  There 
were  styles  of  beauty  to  suit  every  taste — blondes 
and  brunettes.  Tall,  graceful,  aristocratic  girls; 
short,  plump,  vivacious  girls.  Some  had  the  grace 
of  stately  lilies,  others  the  charm  and  fragrance  of 
the  full-blown  rose.  Each  rivaled  the  other  in  chic 
of  costume,  all  were  merry  and  full  of  the  exuber- 
ance of  youth.  They  passed  in  twos  and  threes  and 
as  Armitage  watched  them,  he  wondered  where  his 
girl  was — the  one  girl  in  the  world !  He  knew  that 
she  was  in  New  York,  and  he  also  knew  where  her 
home  was  on  Fifth  Avenue.  Perhaps  if  he  stayed 
there  long  enough,  he  would  see  her  go  by. 

He  had  not  heard  from  Grace  since  they  landed 
in  Boston.  He  reviewed  in  his  mind  all  that  had 
occurred  since  the  wreck  of  the  Atlanta,  that  ever- 
memorable  night  when,  swimming  for  his  life  in  the 
raging  seas,  he  had  felt  her  limp  body  lying  heavily 
on  his  left  arm.  Then  came  their  long  sojourn  to- 
gether on  Hope  Island,  a  blissful  dream  rudely  in- 
terrupted by  the  untimely  arrival  of  the  Saucy  Polly. 
Then  their  return  to  America.  Even  on  the  voyage 

278 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

home  they  were  no  longer  the  same  to  each  other. 
In  her  new  clothes,  borrowed  from  the  stewardess, 
she  looked  quite  different.  He  thought  he  detected 
more  reserve  in  her  manner  toward  him.  Then, 
when  they  arrived  in  Boston,  her  father  was  waiting 
for  her,  and  they  left  at  once  for  New  York — on  a 
special  train.  He  couldn't  follow.  He  had  no 
money  and  refused  to  accept  any  from  Mr.  Harmon. 
He  felt  amply  rewarded  for  all  he  had  done  when 
Grace  smiled  kindly  at  him  as  she  shook  hands  and 
said  good-by. 

When  they  had  gone  he  tried  to  find  work.  For 
some  days  he  was  unsuccessful.  Times  were  hard. 
Instead  of  employing  new  men,  old  hands  were 
everywhere  being  discharged  by  the  hundreds.  At 
first  he  thought  of  taking  to  his  old  occupation,  the 
sea,  but  he  thought  better  of  it.  He  had  had  enough 
of  seafaring  to  last  him  some  time.  Then,  desperate, 
he  tried  to  get  anything.  Men  with  nerve  were 
needed  in  the  iron  construction  work  of  a  lofty  sky- 
scraper. He  didn't  know  much  about  the  business, 
but  he  did  not  mind  the  danger,  and  he  was  soon 
high  in  the  air,  astride  a  swinging  iron  beam,  rivet- 

279 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

ing  bolts  at  a  dizzy  height  and  with  such  frail  sup- 
port that  the  people  in  the  street  below  turned  pale 
for  fear  he  would  fall.  What  did  he  care  if  a  girder 
fell  and  he  was  dashed  to  pieces  below  ?  He  laughed 
at  danger,  and  performed  feats  that  made  his  fel- 
low workmen  gasp.  This  earned  him  good  pay,  and 
soon  he  had  saved  enough  to  come  to  New  York. 

Why  had  he  come  to  New  York?  Why  had  he 
given  up  good  wages  to  come  here  without  the  cer- 
tainty of  finding  work?  Only  one  thing  had  at- 
tracted him  here — the  same  reason  that  attracts  the 
moth  to  the  flame.  He  knew  it  was  hopeless,  but  he 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  coming  to  the 
same  city  where  she  was,  breathing  the  same  air  she 
breathed  and  secretly,  at  night,  coming  up  to  Fifth 
Avenue  and  standing  for  hours,  watching  her  win- 
dows until  he  was  ordered  to  move  on  by  a  suspi- 
cious policeman.  Luckily  he  had  found  employment 
— the  same  kind  of  work  that  he  had  done  success- 
fully in  Boston.  A  sky-scraper  was  being  erected  on 
the  corner  of  Fifth  Avenue  and  Forty-second  Street, 
and  he  was  sent  to  rivet  the  iron  beams.  That  was 
how  he  came  to  be  there  that  sunny  afternoon. 

280 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Curiously,  he  eyed  the  fashionably  dressed  prom- 
enaders  as  they  passed  by,  chatting  and  laughing  in 
polite  conversation.  There  was  no  hostility  in  his 
attitude  as  he  watched  them.  That  feeling  had  died 
away.  These  men  and  women  with  their  fine  clothes 
and  polished  manners  appeared  to  him  to-day  in  a 
different  light.  There  was  a  time  when  he  would 
have  cursed  them  as  they  haughtily  brushed  past 
him,  but  now  the  old  animosity  had  died  away.  The 
class  hatred  which  he  had  nourished  so  long  in  his 
heart  had  undergone  a  change.  These  were  her 
people,  perhaps  they  were  her  friends.  Wistfully, 
he  looked  after  them,  wishing  he  could  summon  up 
courage  to  boldly  approach  some  one  and  ask  how 
Grace  was.  Eagerly  he  scanned  the  brilliant  throng, 
hoping  each  instant  to  catch  sight  of  her  in  the 
crowd,  but  he  watched  in  vain.  The  beloved  figure 
he  would  have  recognized  a  mile  away  did  not  ap- 
pear. 

Disappointed,  he  turned  once  more  to  his  task. 
It  was  already  half-past  four.  In  thirty  minutes 
more  the  whistle  would  blow.  The  men  would  quit 
work  and  he  would  trudge  over  to  the  cheaper  East 

281 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Side,  where  he  lived.  He  had  picked  up  his  sledge- 
hammer and  was  about  to  resume  work  when  he 
happened  to  look  up  the  Avenue.  There  she  was  at 
last,  close  at  hand,  coming  toward  him.  Involun- 
tarily, he  stepped  back,  and  the  heavy  hammer  fell 
from  his  nerveless  grasp. 

Grace  went  by,  dainty  and  chic,  the  cynosure  of 
every  eye  on  the  Avenue.  Men  turned  after  her  as 
she  passed.  Women  stopped  and  pointed.  But,  un- 
conscious of,  or  indifferent  to,  the  admiration  she 
excited,  Miss  Harmon  continued  on  her  way  home. 

Armitage  gazed  after  her,  as  if  petrified.  His 
first  impulse  was  to  cry  out,  to  run  after  her,  to 
attract  her  attention.  He  stumbled  forward  and 
then  stopped.  What  right  had  he  to  accost  her? 
She  might  resent  it  as  an  unwarrantable  imperti- 
nence. It  would  humiliate  and  embarrass  her  to  be 
addressed  amid  that  fashionable  throng  by  a  com- 
mon workman.  It  was  enough  that  he  had  seen  her 
— from  a  distance.  That  was  all  the  happiness  he 
could  reasonably  expect.  By  the  time  he  had  rea- 
soned with  himself,  Grace  was  out  of  sight. 

That  evening  when  Armitage  reached  his  lodg- 
282 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

ings  he  found  awaiting  him  a  letter  bearing  the  Bos- 
ton postmark.  Opening  it,  he  saw  it  contained  an- 
other letter  addressed  to  him  and  forwarded  in  care 
of  the  Boston  office  of  the  owners  of  the  Saucy 
Polly.  Tearing  open  the  envelope,  he  read  as  fol- 
lows: 

" —  FIFTH  AVENUE. 

"DEAR  MR.  ARMITAGE:    If  you  happen  to  be  in 
New  York,  I  should  be  glad  if  you  could  find  it  con- 
venient to  call  at  the  above  address. 
"Yours  faithfully, 

"JOHN  HARMON." 


283 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  town  house  of  John  Harmon  was  con- 
spicuous for  its  size  and  beauty  even  on  an 
avenue  famous  for  its  magnificent  resi- 
dences. With  a  frontage  of  a  hundred  feet  facing 
Central  Park,  it  was  constructed  entirely  of  French 
gray  stone,  Renaissance  style,  with  turrets,  gables, 
oriel  windows,  elaborately  carved  stone  loggias  and 
balconies,  tiled  roofs  and  all  the  other  architectural 
ornamentation  of  that  picturesque  period.  Set  back 
some  distance  from  the  road,  it  was  surrounded  by 
tastefully  laid-out  grounds,  with  a  handsome  portico 
decorated  by  elaborate  stone  carvings,  and  a  drive- 
way bordered  with  flower-beds,  entrance  to  which 
was  made  through  ornamental  gates  of  massive 
bronze. 

Beautiful  from  the  exterior  as  was  this  railroad 
king's  home,  within  it  was  furnished  with  the  lavish 
grandeur  of  a  royal  palace.  All  Europe  had  been 
ransacked  to  fill  it  with  beautiful  and  costly  art 
treasures.  At  the  back  of  the  large  entrance-hall, 

284 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

with  its  magnificent  frescoed  ceilings,  its  satin  hang- 
ings, marble  pillars  and  stained-glass  windows,  was 
a  monumental  staircase  of  pure  Italian  marble  and 
graceful  design  which  led  to  the  reception-room  and 
other  apartments  above.  The  stairway  was  artis- 
tically decorated  with  marble  statuary,  trophies  of 
arms  and  priceless  tapestries.  On  the  second  floor 
were  the  famous  art-galleries  hung  with  paintings 
by  the  ancient  and  modern  masters. 

It  was  only  on  extraordinary  occasions  that  vis- 
itors were  afforded  an  opportunity  to  see  all  the  art 
treasures  which  the  house  contained.  For  the  great- 
er part  of  the  year  the  pictures  were  not  on  view. 
To-day,  however,  was  one  of  the  rare  exceptions. 
Mr.  Harmon  had  thrown  open  his  entire  house 
in  honor  of  the  special  event  which  he  was  celebra- 
ting. 

Outside  the  house,  on  Fifth  Avenue,  a  crowd  of 
people  stood  watching  the  long  string  of  carriages, 
automobiles  and  taxi-cabs  in  line  before  the  gate. 
The  day,  although  fine,  was  cold  and  windy  and  an 
awning  had  been  stretched  from  the  portico  to  the 
curb  to  protect  the  guests  from  the  weather.  The 

285 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

crowd  of  curious  sightseers  grew  larger  as  each  mo- 
ment other  cabs  and  automobiles  dashed  up.  A 
mounted  policeman  prevented  the  spectators  from 
pressing  too  close  and  kept  the  way  open  for  regular 
traffic,  while  Mr.  Harmon's  servants  in  powdered 
hair  and  knee-breeches  received  each  newcomer. 

"Gee !  Get  on  to  'em  guys  wid  der  white  wigs !" 
cried  out  a  cheeky  boy. 

"What's  all  the  fuss  about?"  inquired  a  by- 
stander. 

"Blessed  if  I  know,"  replied  the  man  curtly. 

A  well-dressed  woman  stopped  and  watched  the 
scene  with  interest. 

"Whose  house  is  that?"  she  inquired  of  a  police- 
man. 

"John  Harmon's,  m'm,"  replied  the  officer  of 
the  law. 

"The  railroad  man  ?"  she  asked,  with  growing  in- 
terest. 

"Yes,"  answered  her  informant.  "Mr.  Harmon's 
daughter  was  wrecked  on  the  Atlanta,  you  know. 
She  was  reported  drowned.  Then  they  found  her 
on  a  desert  island.  She's  home  to-day  and  they're 

286 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

giving  a  reception  to  all  their  friends  in  honor  of 
her  return," 

In  the  splendid  reception-room  facing  the  Avenue 
rich  with  its  gold  and  crimson  furnishings,  delicately 
frescoed  ceilings,  satin  brocade  hangings,  priceless 
rugs,  onyx  tables  and  heavy  red  carpet,  Grace  was 
the  center  of  an  excited  throng  of  women,  Each 
fresh  arrival  literally  fought  her  way  through  the 
crowd  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  heroine  of  the  hour. 
There  were  murmurs  of  surprise  and  admiration  on 
all  sides  as  they  caught  sight  of  her. 

They  expected  to  see  Grace  a  physical  wreck  after 
all  the  suffering  she  had  gone  through  during  her 
enforced  imprisonment  on  the  desert  island.  Some 
had  gone  so  far  as  to  whisper  that  the  young  heiress 
would  never  recover  from  the  effects  of  the  nervous 
shock.  Such  a  terrible  experience,  they  said,  was 
more  than  sufficient  to  kill  a  strong  woman,  What 
effect,  therefore,  must  it  have  had  on  the  delicate 
Miss  Harmon,  whose  health  already  gave  cause  for 
alarm  before  she  went  on  that  fatal  voyage? 

When  the  invited  guests  entered  the  reception- 
room  and  saw  Grace  beaming  and  smiling  in  the 

287 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

center  of  a  circle  of  enthusiastic  friends  they  could 
scarcely  believe  their  eyes.  To  their  utter  astonish- 
ment she  was  precisely  the  opposite  of  what  they  had 
imagined.  Instead  of  the  frail,  languid  girl  to  whom 
they  had  said  good-by  when  the  Atlanta  sailed  from 
New  York  some  six  months  before,  she  was  the  pic- 
ture of  good  health,  in  as  perfect  physical  condition 
as  she  had  ever  been  in  her  life.  Her  face  was 
tanned  from  long  exposure  to  the  sun,  but  the  deeper 
color  only  heightened  the  rich  effects  of  her  beauty. 
It  became  her  dark  hair  and  her  splendid  eyes.  She 
was  a  little  stouter,  but  her  fuller  figure  only  set  off 
to  better  advantage  a  new  gown  of  clinging  silver 
cloth,  trimmed  with  rare  lace.  She  looked  radiant. 
Whispered  murmurs  of  admiration  were  heard  in 
all  parts  of  the  room.  The  women  raved  about  her 
figure,  her  coloring  and  her  hair,  and  the  men  fell 
over  each  other  in  their  eagerness  to  attract  her  at- 
tention. 

The  reception-rooms  were  already  crowded  and 
new  arrivals  were  coming  in  constantly.  Somebody 
said  that  Prince  Sergius  of  Eurasia  was  present,  and 
there  was  a  general  craning  of  necks  to  get  a  glimpse 

288 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

of  royalty.  A  woman  whispered  confidentially  to  a 
friend  that  his  royal  highness  had  been  a  constant 
caller  since  Miss  Harmon's  return  and  that  there 
were  good  grounds  for  believing  that  they  were  en- 
gaged. In  a  few  minutes  the  friend  had  spread  the 
information  all  over  the  room  that  the  engage- 
ment was  official  and  would  immediately  be  made 
public. 

Supremely  unconscious  of  the  gossip  of  which  she 
was  the  envied  object,  Grace  stood  in  a  corner  of 
the  room  surrounded  by  Mrs.  Wesley  Stuart,  Pro- 
fessor Hanson,  Mrs.  Phelps,  and  the  Hon.  Percy 
Fitzhugh.  All  fellow  survivors  of  the  wreck  of 
the  Atlanta,  they  made  an  interesting  little  group  by 
themselves  as  they  stood  comparing  notes  and  descri- 
bing their  adventures,  while  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harmon, 
scarcely  able  yet  to  believe  the  good  news  that  their 
darling  child  had  returned  from  the  dead,  went  from 
one  to  another  telling  the  wonderful  story  of  her 
life  on  a  desert  island. 

For  the  hundredth  time  Grace  told  and  retold  the 
story  of  the  wreck — how  she  fell  into  the  water  from 
the  overturned  life-boat,  and  after  swimming  some 

380 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

distance,  was  fast  becoming  exhausted  when  sud- 
denly one  of  the  crew  seized  her  and  dragged  her 
ashore.  She  told  of  her  horrible  adventure  with  the 
cobra  and  narrated  in  detail  all  the  other  incidents 
df  her  sojourn  on  the  desert  island  up  to  the  time 
that  she  was  rescued  by  the  Saucy  Polly. 

Mrs.  Stuart  explained  how  she  and  Professor 
Hanson,  together  with  Mr.  Fitzhugh  got  away  in 
one  of  the  life-boats.  Mrs.  Phelps  and  Count  von 
Hatzfeldt  were  also  saved,  but  poor  Captain  Sum- 
mers was  drowned,  a  martyr  to  duty.  He  refused 
to  leave  the  bridge  and  went  down  with  his  ship, 
keeping  the  whistle  blowing  as  the  vessel  sank  out 
of  sight  beneath  the  waves.  After  rowing  all  night 
they  were  picked  up  the  following  day  by  a  P.  and 
O.  steamer  bound  from  Calcutta  to  Southampton. 
They  naturally  supposed  Grace  was  among  the 
drowned,  and,  on  arriving  in  England,  gave  her 
name  among  the  others  to  the  correspondents,  who 
cabled  the  sensational  news  to  New  York. 

Mrs.  Stuart  threw  her  arms  around  Grace's  neck 
and  kissed  her  effusively. 

"Oh,  my  poor,  dear  girl,"  she  cried.  "If  you  only 
290 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

knew  what  mental  agonies  I've  suffered !  I  thought 
that  I  should  never  see  you  again.  I  blamed  myself 
for  having  suggested  the  voyage.  I  held  myself  re- 
sponsible. I  did  not  dare  look  your  poor  father  in 
the  face.  Your  mental  suffering  must  have  been  ter- 
rible, to  say  nothing  of  the  dangers  you  were  sub- 
jected to.  How  terrified  you  must  have  been  to  be 
all  alone  with  that  dreadful  stoker!  Yew  should 
thank  heaven  he  did  you  no  violence.  A  man  of  that 
character  is  capable  of  anything — especially  when 
alone  with  a  defenceless  woman." 

Grace  smiled  faintly.     A  thoughtful  expression 
came  into  her  face.    She  made  no  answer,  and  Mrs. 
Stuart  repeated  her  question: 
"Weren't  you  afraid  of  him?" 
Aroused  from  her  reverie,  Grace  answered : 
"No,  not  at  all,  we  got  along  capitally.     You 
know,  dear,"  she  went  on,  "the  devil  is  never  as  black 
as  he  is  painted.     When  people  don't  get  along  to- 
gether, it  is  very  often  because  they  don't  under- 
stand each  other." 

Mrs.  Stuart  looked  at  her  former  protegee  with 
blank  astonishment 

091 


BY  RIGHT  OF  COX  QUEST 

"So  this  stoker  fellow — you  think  you  understand 
him?  Did  you  actually  take  the  trouble  to  under- 
stand him  ?" 

She  looked  closely  at  Grace,  a  searching  look  that 
made  the  latter's  cheeks  redden. 

"Perhaps,"  went  on  Mrs.  Stuart,  with  a  knowing 
smile,  "you  both  came  to  a  perfect  understanding — 
some  foolish  romance  which  you'd  blush  now  to  ac- 
knowledge." 

"Don't  be  silly,  Cora,"  answered  Grace  quickly. 
"You  know  he  saved  my  life  twice.  The  least  I 
could  do  was  to  be  civil  to  him." 

"Where  is  he  now  ?"  demanded  Mrs.  Stuart 

"I  haven't  the  slightest  idea,"  replied  Grace.  "He 
returned  to  America,  of  course,  on  the  Saucy  Potty, 
and  when  the  ship  arrived  at  Boston  my  father  was 
there  to  meet  me.  When  I  had  said  what  he  had 
done  for  me,  father  was  anxious  to  repay  him,  but  he 
refused  to  take  anything  and  mysteriously  disap- 
peared. I  have  not  seen  him  since,  but  we  are  try- 
ing to  trace  him.  Father  has  written  to  the  owner 
of  the  Saucy  Polly,  whom,  we  think,  knows  his 
whereabouts." 

392 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"Perfectly  delicious!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Stuart  sar- 
castically. "Your  father  can  offer  him  a  position  as 
coachman,  footman  or  butler.  No  doubt  he's  dead 
in  love  with  you!  The  romance  wouldn't  be  com- 
plete unless  you  eloped  with  him !" 

Grace  was  silent.  Her  friend's  cynicism  grated 
on  her.  She  turned  her  head  away  afraid  that  the 
expression  on  her  face  might  betray  her.  How 
often  she  thought  words  uttered  in  jest  hit  upon  the 
truth!  She  did  not  tell  Mrs.  Stuart  that  she  was 
just  as  anxious  to  have  news  of  Armitage  as  was 
her  father.  Strangely  enough,  her  return  home, 
which  she  thought  would  fill  her  with  joy,  had  failed 
to  give  her  all  the  happiness  she  expected.  Once 
more  she  was  enjoying  the  social  prestige,  all  the 
luxuries  that  her  father's  position  and  money  secured 
for  her,  yet  there  were  moments  when  she  missed 
those  days  on  Hope  Island  when  her  greatest  ambi- 
tion was  to  prepare  a  satisfactory  meal  for  her  com- 
panion's return. 

She  wondered  if  she  would  ever  see  him  again. 
She  knew  why  he  had  disappeared.  He  understood 
that  there  could  never  be  anything  between  them. 

293 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

They  belonged  to  different  worlds.  She  had  re- 
turned to  hers ;  he  to  his.  She  would  not  have  ex- 
pected anything  else  of  him.  She  would  have  been 
disappointed  in  him  if  he  had  done  anything  else. 
He  was  not  the  kind  of  man  to  come  round,  hat  in 
hand,  and  ask  payment  for  his  services.  No  matter 
how  poor  he  might  be,  he  was  too  proud  for  that, 
and  secretly  in  her  heart  she  rejoiced  to  think  that 
the  man  she  cared  for  was  of  that  stamp. 

Of  course,  their  little  love-affair  was  a  thing  of 
the  past.  When  she  thought  of  it  she  felt  inclined 
to  laugh,  it  was  so  preposterously  out  of  keeping 
with  her  social  position.  Probably  she  would  never 
see  him  again.  She  would  try  not  to,  because,  se- 
cretly, she  was  afraid  of  herself.  She  was  afraid 
that  if  she  saw  him  again  and  heard  his  voice,  if  ever 
again  he  spoke  to  her  as  he  had  on  that  island,  she 
would  be  tempted  to  throw  herself  into  his  arms,  no 
matter  what  her  position  or  how  it  might  wreck  her 
future.  She  remembered  the  story  Professor  Han- 
son had  told  her  of  a  girl  of  good  family  marrying 
an  Indian.  She  recalled  the  stories  she  had  seeri  in 
the  papers  of  rich  girls  running  away  with  their 

294 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

coachmen.  She  could  understand  those  things  now. 
There  was  something  in  these  men,  some  strange 
magnetic  power,  that  made  girls  love  them  for  them- 
selves, regardless  of  the  disastrous  consequences. 

Mr.  Harmon  was  listening  with  rapture  to  the 
flattering  comments  on  all  sides,  on  his  daughter's 
improved  appearance,"  when  suddenly  the  English 
butler  approached  him  and  said  quietly: 

"May  I  speak  to  you  a  minute,  Sir?" 

"Yes,  Hawkins,  what  is  it?"  answered  Mr.  Har- 
mon impatiently. 

"There's  some  one  down-stairs  to  see  you,  Sir/' 

"Some  one  to  see  me  ?"  echoed  Mr.  Harmon.  "Go 
and  tell  him  to  come  up — like  all  the  rest." 

The  butler  did  not  budge.  He  had  been  in  service 
boy  and  man  for  over  forty  years,  and  he  thought 
he  knew  what  kind  of  people  were  privileged  to  en- 
ter his  master's  home  as  guests. 

"Didn't  you  hear  me?"  repeated  Mr.  Harmon. 
"Go  and  tell  him  to  come  up." 

"Excuse  me,  Sif — It  is  not  a  visitor,  Sir.  It's  a 
person  who  tried  to  come  in  the  front  way,  shovin' 
and  elbowin'  'is  way  in  along  with  the  guests  as  if 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

'ee  was  a  regular  caller,  sir.  The  policeman  collared 
'im,  thinkin'  'ee  was  up  to  no  good.  You  can  never 
tell,  sir.  Sometimes  they're  arter  the  coats  and  um- 
brellas, sir.  But  the  feller  said  you  'ad  written  him, 
sir,  to  come  'ere.  So  the  policeman  let  'im  go.  But 
we  wouldn't  let  him  come  in  the  front  way,  Sir.  We 
hustled  'im  in  through  the  tradesmen's  entrance,  and 
'ees  down-stairs  now.  James  is  lookin'  arter  the  sil- 
ver, Sir,  so  there  ain't  no  danger,  there,  Sir." 

"What's  that?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Harmon.  "A  per- 
son of  that  description  says  that  I  wrote  him  to  come 
here.  He  must  be  an  impostor.  Throw  him  out — 
have  him  arrested." 

The  butler  gave  a  grin  of  self-satisfaction.  Rub- 
bing his  hands,  he  said : 

"That's  wot  I  thought,  Sir.  Leave  'im  to  me,  Sir. 
We'll  take  care  of  'im,  Sir." 

He  was  about  to  retire  when  Mr.  Harmon  sudden- 
ly had  an  idea. 

"Can  it  possibly  be "  he  muttered  to  himself. 

"It  must  be  he."  Turning  to  the  butler  he  went  on : 

"Here,  Hawkins,  don't  say  a  word  to  any  one — par- 

296 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

ticularly  not  to  my  daughter.  Take  the  man  to  my 
library.  I'll  be  down  at  once." 

Astonished,  and  also  hurt,  that  his  employer 
should  have  acquaintances  whose  appearance  necessi- 
tated their  being  ushered  in  through  the  tradesman's 
entrance,  the  butler  withdrew. 

After  greeting  a  few  more  arrivals  and  respond- 
ing to  a  toast  to  his  daughter  in  a  glass  of  cham- 
pagne, at  the  buffet-table  besieged  by  a  hungry  and 
noisy  crowd,  Mr.  Harmon  slipped  away  unobserved 
and  made  his  way  to  the  library. 


297 


CHAPTER  XIX 

AS   Mr.  Harmon  entered   the   room,   he   saw 
a    man,    tall,    square-shouldered,    roughly 
dressed,  standing  with  his  back  to  the  door. 
The  stranger  was  so  busy  in  admiring  contemplation 
of  a  fine  full-length  oil-painting  of  the  railroad  mag- 
nate's daughter  which  adorned  the  mantelpiece  that 
he    did    not    hear    any  one    enter.      Mr.    Harmon 
coughed,  and  the  man  turned  quickly.     It  was  Ar- 
mitage. 

The  light  in  the  room  was  not  good,  and  for  a 
moment  Mr.  Harmon  could  not  distinguish  his 
caller's  features.  At  first  he  was  in  doubt  as  to  his 
identity. 

"You  wished  to  see  me,  Sir,"  he  began.  "You  are 
Mr.— -Mr. ?" 

"Jack  Armitage  is  my  name,"  the  other  replied 
carelessly.  Quickly  he  added :  "I  did  not  seek  this 
interview,  Mr.  Harmon.  You  wrote  asking  me  to 
call." 

398 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST        _•' 

Mr.  Harmon  advanced  cordially  and  extended  his 
hand. 

"To  be  sure^-to  be  sure.  Sit  down,  Mr.  Armi- 
tage.  You  happen  to  have  called  on  a  very  busy  day, 
We're  having  some  friends  to  see  us." 

Despite  his  efforts  to  appear  cordial,  there  was  a 
certain  embarrassment  in  the  magnate's  manner 
which  his  visitor  was  not  slow  to  observe. 

"So  I  noticed,"  he  replied  dryly.  "The  pol;* :man 
outside  didn't  size  me  up  as  being  a  friend  of  yours, 
so  he  promptly  ran  me  in.  I  insisted  that  you  had 
asked  me  to  call  and  he  let  me  go.  Then  your  cock- 
ney butler  took  me  for  a  suspicious  character,  and 
after  letting  me  enter,  under  protest,  thfough  the 
tradesmen's  entrance,  he  set  the  footman  to  watch 
me  while  he  went  to  find  you  ur>stairs." 

Mr.  Harmon  laughed. 

"Servants  judge  only  by  appearances,"  he  said. 
"If  you'd  driven  up  in  a  Carriage  and  pair,  they'd 
have  received  you  with  every  mark  of  honor.  I'm 
sorry  if  they  hurt  your  feelings." 

Armitage  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  gave  a  little 
bitter  laugh. 

299 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"What  do  I  care  for  such  jackals?  I'm  accus- 
tomed to  that  kind  of  thing.  Well,  I  won't  keep  you, 
Mr.  Harmon.  You  asked  me  to  call.  What  can  I 
do  for  you?" 

The  railroad  man  was  taken  aback.  Yet  he  liked 
the  man's  independent  spirit.  Hastily  he  said : 

"You  mean  what  can  I  do  for  you.  I  sent  for  you 
because  we  could  not  allow  you  to  go  away  like  that. 
Do  you  suppose  that  I,  John  Harmon,  would  permit 
the  man  who  saved  my  daughter  to  go  unrewarded  ?" 

Armitage  shook  his  head. 

"I  want  nothing,"  he  said  curtly. 

"You  want  nothing?"  echoed  Mr.  Harmon  in 
surprise,  looking  his  caller  up  and  down  from  head 
to  foot.  "Are  your  circumstances  such  that  you  are 
in  need  of  nothing  ?" 

Armitage  laughed  bitterly. 

"I  need  so  much  that  I  need  nothing.  It  sounds 
like  a  paradox,  but  it's  the  truth." 

Mr.  Harmon  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"You  weren't  always  so  low  down  in  the  world?" 

Armitage  made  no  reply. 

"You're  an  educated  man.  That  I  can  tell  from 
300 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

your  speech.  Some  misfortune — some  folly  has 
brought  you  where  you  are." 

Armitage  gave  an  impatient  gesture  and,  moving 
toward  the  door,  said : 

"I  didn't  come  here  to  discuss  my  affairs,  Mr. 
Harmon.  You  sent  for  me.  I  thought  you  needed 
me.  Good  afternoon." 

Mr.  Harmon  intercepted  him. 

"Wait  a  minute,  young  man.  Don't  be  so  hasty. 
I  meant  no  offence.  Don't  you  see  that  I  am  inter- 
ested in  you?  I  want  to  help  you." 

"I  ask  help  of  no  one,"  replied  Armitage  doggedly. 

"Twice  you  saved  my  daughter's  life.  She  and 
I  can  never  forget  what  we  owe  you.  She  wants  to 
thank  you  herself  again.  She  could  not  understand 
your  disappearance  and  silence.  Why  did  you  not 
come  ?" 

Armitage  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  he  said : 

"What  was  the  use?  I  don't  belong  here.  I 
didn't  wish  to  embarrass  you.  Can't  you  see  that? 
I  saw  Miss  Harmon  the  other  day.  She  was  walk- 
ing on  Fifth  Avenue.  She  didn't  see  me.  Why 
should  she  ?  I  was  working  on  a  job  close  by.  She 

Mr 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

happened  to  pass  just  as  I  was  about  to  quit  work. 
I  looked  at  her,  but  she  didn't  see  me.  Even  if  she 
did,  she  wouldn't  want  to  recognize  me  in  these  togs. 
I  know  that.  I  don't  blame  her." 

"You  don't  know  my  daughter,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Harmon  enthusiastically.  "She  is  the  last  girl  in 
the  world  to  act  like  that.  If  she  had  seen  you,  she 
would  have  been  the  first  to  extend  her  hand.  I'm  a 
self-made  man  myself,"  he  added  proudly.  "There's 
nothing  snobbish  about  me,  and  I  hope  there  isn't 
about  my  daughter.  You'll  come  up-stairs  with  me 
now  and  be  introduced  to  everybody  as  the  man  who 
saved  her." 

Armitage  shook  his  head. 

"No — it  isn't  you — it's  the  world.  It's  not  our- 
selves— it's  because  we're  afraid  of  what  the  world, 
our  neighbors,  will  think.  No,  I  wouldn't  embarrass 
your  daughter.  Besides,  I've  no  wish  to  be  put  on 
exhibition.** 

Mr.  Harmon,  puzzled,  scratched  his  head. 

"Well,  what  can  we  do  to  show  our  gratitude? 
Let  me  give  you  a  little  present." 

302 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

He  took  out  his  check-book,  and,  sitting  down, 
wrote  an  order  to  bearer  for  $10,000. 

"Here,  Mr.  Armitage.  This  is  far  cheaper  than 
I  value  my  daughter.  But  it  will  make  life  easy  for 
you.  You  can  start  some  business — be  practically 
independent  for  life.  Here,  my  boy,  take  it  with  a 
father's  gratitude." 

He  passed  the  check  over  to  Armitage,  who  looked 
at  it  a  moment.  A  smile  passed  over  his  face  and 
slowly,  deliberately,  he  tore  it  into  tiny  pieces. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  cried  Mr.  Harmon. 

"I  can't  take  your  money  for  taking  care  of  her, 
Mr.  Harmon.  I  should  forever  despise  myself  if  I 
did.  It  would  be  bad  luck  to  me." 

"Well,  what  can  I  do  for  you?  I  can't  let  you  go 
like  that!" 

Armitage  remained  silent.  Then,  turning  sudden- 
ly, he  said : 

"There's  only  one  thing  I  could  accept  f  rora  you, 
Mr.  Harmon." 

"What  is  that?"  demanded  the  railroad  magnate 
eagerly. 

303 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"Something  that  even  you,  rich  as  you  are,  cannot 
give  me.  You  wouldn't  give  it  me  if  you  could. 
Good  day,  Mr.  Harmon." 

Armitage  went  out  and,  as  he  passed  the  aston- 
ished financier,  he  gave  a  last  lingering  look  at  the 
oil  portrait  which  filled  the  space  over  the  mantel. 


304 


CHAPTER  XX 

IN  a  cheap,  grimy-looking  hash-house  on  Third 
Avenue  Armitage  sat  alone  at  a  table,  partaking 
with  apparent  relish  of  the  rough  yet  not  un- 
wholesome fare  which  his  slender  purse  could  afford 
to  pay  for.    The  hour  being  late,  he  had  exclusively 
to  himself  the  services  of  the  one  greasy  and  cadav- 
erous waiter,  while  the  proprietor  of  the  restaurant, 
if  the  "joint"  might  be  dignified  by  so  respectable 
a  name,  sat  behind  his  rostrum  near  the  window, 
sulkily  reckoning  up  the  day's  receipts. 

Through  the  open  door  came  all  the  distressing 
sounds  and  smells  that  make  this  particular  thor- 
oughfare the  noisiest  and  most  objectionable  of  the 
city's  main  arteries.  Overhead  the  elevated  trains 
crashed  with  deafening  noise,  push-cart  vendors 
shouted  their  wares,  Italian  organ-grinders  played 
'discordant  tunes,  smudged-faced,  tattered  children 
romped  in  the  unclean  gutters,  slovenly  housewives 
quarreled  with  cranky  janitors,  a  drunkard  stag- 
gered in  bestial  condition  from  a  corner  saloon, 

305 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

roughly  moved  on  by  a  uniformed  bully  with  swing- 
ing club ;  sinister  figures  of  men  and  women,  human 
derelicts,  crouched  in  doorways,  pavements  and  side- 
walks were  filthy  with  torn  paper  and  decaying  fruit, 
tattered  washing  hanging  from  broken-down  fire- 
escapes — everything  that  is  degraded  and  sordid  was 
ce'ntered  here  right  in  the  heart  of  the  richest  and 
most  modern  city  in  the  world. 

But  Armitage  was  too  busily  preoccupied  to  be 
disturbed  by  his  squalid  surroundings.  His  appe- 
tite was  keen,  thanks  to  a  day's  hard  work,  and, 
while  he  devoured  with  amazing  celerity  the  con- 
tents of  his  heaped-up  plate,  he  stopped  every  now 
and  then  to  read  with  closer  attention  the  newspaper 
which  was  propped  up  before  him.  It  was  a  torn 
copy  of  that  morning's  Tribune,  and  the  part  which 
interested  him  was  an  account  on  the  society  page 
of  the  big  reception  which  had  taken  place  at  the 
residence  of  Mr.  John  Harmon  on  the  previous  day. 
It  being  a  social  event  of  some  importance,  two  col- 
umns were  devoted  to  it,  the  writer  explaining  the 
special  occasion  which  it  was  intended  to  celebrate, 
and  retelling  in  vivid  detail  the  story  of  the  Atlanta's 

306 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

ill-fated  voyage.  Armitage  smiled  as  he  read  the 
account,  sensationally  exaggerated,  of  the  beautiful 
young  heiress'  hairbreadth  escapes  from  angry 
ocean  and  venomous  serpent  and  all  the  other  terrors 
of  a  desert  island  in  company  with  a  common  sailor, 
who,  when  the  rescue-party  safely  reached  America, 
strangely  disappeared  despite  the  grateful  railroad 
man's  tireless  efforts  to  discover  his  whereabouts  and 
reward  him.  Then  the  article  went  on  to  tell  of 
Miss  Harmon's  improved  appearance,  the  delight  of 
her  friends,  and  to  describe  the  wonderful  gowns 
worn  by  the  fashionable  women  who  had  thronged 
to  welcome  her  home. 

He  was  reading  the  article  in  a  careless,  amused 
kind  of  way  when  suddenly  he  came  to  a  paragraph 
which  made  him  sit  up  with  a  start.  It  read  ag 
follows : 

"But  perhaps  the  chief  interest  of  the  afternoon,  apart  from 
the  charming  young  heroine,  centred  in  a  distinguished  guest, 
Prince  Sergius  of  Eurasia.  His  Royal  Highness  has  been  a 
frequent  caller  at  the  Harmon  residence  ever  since  Miss  Har- 
mon's return,  and,  as  usual,  gossip  has  been  busy  trying  to 
find  some  plausible  explanation  of  this  growing  intimacy  be- 
tween the  heir  presumptive  to  a  European  throne,  and  the 
family  of  an  American  railroad  king.  It  is  whispered  that 

307 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Miss  Harmon,  whose  marriage  has  been  the  topic  of  the  last 
two  seasons,  is  not  indifferent  to  the  Prince,  and  that  if  the 
consent  of  the  King  can  be  obtained,  the  engagement  of  the 
young  couple  will  be  shortly  announced." 

A  lump  rose  in  Armitage's  throat.  Calling  for  a 
cup  of  coffee,  he  lit  his  pipe  and  took  up  the  paper 
again.  After  all,  he  thought  philosophically,  why 
should  he  care  ?  The  girl  was  lost  to  him,  that  was 
certain.  He  would  never  see  her  again.  She  was  a 
bit  of  sunshine  that  had  suddenly  burst  into  his 
dark,  unhappy  life ;  and  suddenly  gone  again,  leav- 
ing the  outlook  blacker  than  ever.  He  knew  it  was 
hopeless.  He  loved  her,  would  always  love  her. 
Time  would  make  no  difference.  She  would  marry 
her  prince  and  have  long  forgotten  her  adventure  on 
the  island,  and  still  he,  knocking  alone  about  the 
world,  would  cherish  her  memory  in  his  heart. 

He  did  not  blame  her.  It  was  different  in  her 
case.  On  the  island,  alone  with  him,  she  might  in 
time  have  learned  to  care  for  him.  They  might  have 
been  happy  together,  far  happier  than  she  would 
ever  be  in  her  Eurasian  palace.  But  when  the  spell 
was  once  broken,  when  she  returned  to  New  York 
and  was  once  more  absorbed  in  her  fashionable  life, 

308 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

it  was  only  natural  that  she  should  speedily  forget 
him. 

He  threw  the  newspaper  down  and,  having  settled 
his  bill,  was  about  to  rise  and  leave,  when  suddenly 
his  eye  was  arrested  by  an  advertisement  he  saw  in 
the  paper  which  he  had  just  put  aside.  Picking  it  up 
again,  he  read  as  follows : 

ARMITAGE:  If  John  Armitage,  second  son  of  Sir  William 
Armitage,  of  Alnwick  Towers,  Bucks,  England,  will  com- 
municate at  once  with  the  undersigned  he  will  learn  some- 
thing to  his  advantage.  Coxe  and  Willoughby,  attorneys,  27 
Broad  Street,  N.  Y.  City. 

His  heart  beating  furiously,  he  read  the  adver- 
tisement over  and  over.  John  Armitage,  second  son 
of  Sir  William  Armitage  of  Alnwick  Towers,  Bucks, 
England — what  a  f  amilliar  sound  that  had !  Many 
long  weary  years  had  gone  by  since  he  had  seen 
those  names  in  print.  What  could  have  happened! 
Why  should  they  want  to  communicate  with  him — 
the  scapegrace  of  the  family  ?  He  turned  pale.  Could 
his  father  be  dead — the  father  who  had  cursed  him 
and  forbade  him  ever  to  appear  before  him  again? 
Even  if  he  were  dead  they  would  not  send  for  him. 

3°9 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

His  elder  brother  would  succeed  to  the  title  and 
estates. 

Letting  the  paper  drop  out  of  his  hands,  he  rose 
and,  leaving  the  place,  walked  along  Third  Avenue 
as  if  in  a  dream.  Coxe  and  Willoughby,  27  Broad 
Street !  Well,  there  was  no  harm  in  calling  on  them 
to  see  what  they  wanted.  Their  offices  would  be 
dosed  now,  but  he  would  go  first  thing  in  the  morn- 
ing. The  dull  roar  of  the  city's  tremendous  traffic, 
the  clanging  of  car-gongs,  the  hoarse  cries  of  news 
vendors  greeted  him  as  he  stemmed  the  tide  of  push- 
ing humanity,  men  and  women  toilers — the  day's 
work  ended — all  hurrying  to  trains  and  ferries.  & 
wagon  driven  at  reckless  speed  round  a  corner  nearly 
knocked  him  down  as  he  crossed  a  street.  A  fellow 
workman  loafing  at  the  entrance  to  a  saloon  jocular- 
ly invited  him  to  enter  and  take  a  drink.  But  he  paid 
no  heed.  He  strode  along,  walking  as  on  air,  his 
thoughts  far  away. 

The  advertisement  he  had  just  read  had  taken  him 
back  fifteen  years.  He  saw  himself  in  England,  just 
graduated  from  College,  receiving  the  congratula- 
tions of  his  friends.  He  remembered  his  father's 

310 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

pride  in  his  success  and  his  kindly  admonition  to  con- 
tinue as  he  had  begun,  so  that  one  day  he  might  add 
even  more  distinction  to  the  honorable  name  he  bore. 
How  had  he  followed  that  sage  advice  ?  No  sooner 
released  from  the  restraint  of  the  University  than 
he  plunged  into  every  form  of  dissipation,  sowing 
his  wild  oats  recklessly,  blindly,  utterly  indifferent 
to  the  deadly  crop  they  might  one  day  yield.  The 
corrupt,  gay  city  beckoned  to  him,  and  he  could  not 
resist  its  pleasure-call.  He  scattered  gold  right  and 
left  on  race-tracks,  at  cards,  on  women.  A  small 
inheritance  turned  over  at  his  majority  went  speed- 
ily the  way  of  all  the  rest,  and  then  he  went  to  the 
money-lenders  to  pay  for  further  extravagances,  in- 
curring obligations  he  could  not  meet.  Sir  William, 
sorely  disappointed,  came  to  the  rescue  again  and 
again,  and,  extracting  a  promise  of  reformation, 
made  him  enter  Woolwich  to  try  for  a  commission 
in  the  Army.  Plucked  at  every  examination,  he  was 
quickly  discouraged,  returned  to  his  fast  companions 
and  gradually  drifted  into  the  aimless,  loose  way  of 
living  of  the  idle  man-about-town.  Debts  accumu- 
lated, the  creditors  dunned  and  dogged  his  footsteps 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

until  life  became  unbearable.  His  father,  incensed 
beyond  hope  of  pardon,  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  further 
appeals,  and  finally  cut  off  his  allowance  altogether, 
hoping  to  teach  him  a  lesson.  Soon  his  clothes  got 
shabby,  he  was  forced  into  cheap  lodgings,  his  fair- 
weather  friends  forgot  to  bow  to  him. 

That  was  the  beginning  of  the  end.  He  drifted 
lower  and  lower  until  he  was  forced  to  go  to  work 
or  starve.  He  knew  no  trade.  He  was  obliged  to 
accept  what  he  could  get.  He  turned  his  hand  to 
anything,  often  making  barely  enough  to  secure  him- 
self a  night's  lodging.  Finally,  when  things  seemed 
at  their  darkest,  he  heard  there  was  a  demand  for 
stokers  on  the  Blue  Star  Line.  What  he  had  suf- 
fered down  there  in  that  hell's  furnace  no  man  knew ! 
The  poor  devils  who  had  to  do  the  work  never  sur- 
vived to  tell  of  their  devilish  toil.  If  these  million- 
aires who  liked  to  travel  in  fast  ships  knew  the 
physical  agony  the  vessel's  speed  cost  a  human  be- 
ing, they  would  refuse  to  patronize  them.  Thank 
God  those  days  were  over!  No  matter  what  hap- 
pened, he  would  never  go  back  to  the  stoke-hold. 

312 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

That  night  as  he  lay  on  his  cot  in  his  Bowery 
lodging-house  he  tossed  uneasily,  unable  to  sleep, 
wondering  what  Coxe  &  Willoughby,  Attorneys,  of 
27*  Broad  Street,  wanted  with  him. 


313 


CHAPTER  XXI 

BROAD  STREET,  just  before  the  stock-market 
begins  its  daily  orgy  of  frenzied  finance,  is 
perhaps  the  most  orderly  and  imposing  of 
any  of  the  splendid  thoroughfares  in  New  York's 
commercial  center.  Strange  to  say,  it  also  fits  its 
name,  having  almost  three  times  the  width  of  any 
other  street  in  the  down-town  district.  From  the 
Wall  Street  end  where  the  Sub-Treasury  faces  the 
old-fashioned  premises  of  J.  Pierpont  Morgan  & 
Co.'s  banking-house,  Broad  Street  sweeps  round  in 
a  noble  curve,  lined  on  either  side  with  stately  office- 
buildings,  rivaling  each  other  in  beauty  of  archi- 
tectural design.  The  imposing  building  opposite 
ornamented  with  bas  reliefs  and  noble  marble  col- 
umns is  the  Stock  Exchange,  where  the  unsophisti- 
cated lamb  is  ruthlessly  sheared  by  bull  and  bear, 
and  farther  on,  without  other  roof  than  the  blue 
vault  of  heaven,  are  the  noisy  curb  brokers,  so  called 
because,  having  no  building  of  their  own  in  which 
to  transact  their  business,  they  are  permitted  by  time- 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

honored  custom  to  trade  in  a  roped-off  enclosure  in 
the  middle  of  the  street. 

It  was  absolutely  terra  incognita  to  Armitage,  and 
he  gazed  open-eyed  around  him  like  any  country 
yokel  seeing  the  sights  of  the  city  for  the  first  time. 
Suddenly  he  saw  a  crowd  of  men  engaged  in  what 
seemed  to  be  a  desperate  struggle  in  the  middle  of 
the  road.  They  were  grappling  with  each  other, 
brandishing  their  arms  and  fists,  yelling  like  Indians. 
It  looked  like  a  riot  of  serious  proportions,  and  he 
wondered  why  the  policeman  who  stood  close  by 
calmly  looking  on  viewed  it  with  such  unconcern. 

"What's  the  matter  ?"  he  queried  of  a  passer-by. 

"Matter — where?"  asked  the  stranger,  looking  in 
all  directions. 

"Don't  you  see  those  men  fighting?"  said  Armi- 
tage. 

The  stranger  grinned. 

"Say,  you're  from  Jersey,  ain't  you?  That's  no 
fight.  They're  curb  brokers  trying  to  unload  on 
each  other  their  mining  stocks." 

Armitage  felt  foolish.  To  hide  his  confusion  he 
asked : 

315 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"Can  you  direct  me  to  the  offices  of  Coxe  and 
Willoughby,  the  attorneys  ?  I'm  a  stranger  here." 

The  man  pointed  a  little  farther  up  the  street. 

"See  that  tall  building  on  the  left?    That's  it." 

Thanking  his  informant  Armitage  hurried  on, 
and,  going  up  the  stone  steps  of  No.  27,  passed 
through  a  revolving  door  kept  whirling  by  an  end- 
less procession  of  brokers,  clerks  and  messenger-boys 
who  hurried  in  and  out.  Following  a  long  corridor, 
he  came  to  a  large  open  space  completely  lined  with 
elevators.  Some  were  expresses  which  made  no 
stop  below  the  25th  floor ;  the  rest  were  locals  stop- 
ping at  each  story,  on  request. 

"Coxe  and  Willoughby?"  he  said  interrogatively 
to  the  uniformed  starter. 

"Twenty-seventh  floor.  Take  the  express,"  was 
the  quick  reply. 

Armitage  entered  the  waiting  car.  Other  persons 
followed  him  in,  and  it  was  comfortably  filled  when 
the  starter  cried  sharply : 

"Right!" 

Instantly  the  attendant  closed  the  gates  and 
touched  a  lever.  Armitage  felt  his  stomach  leap  into 

316 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

his  throat.  They  were  flying  upward  at  a  speed  of 
fifty  miles  an  hour,  and  before  he  had  time  to  gasp, 
the  car  had  reached  the  first  stop,  nearly  300  feet  up 
in  the  air.  Two  stories  more  and  he  had  reached  the 
floor  he  wanted. 

"Along  the  corridor  to  your  left,  first  door  to  the 
right,"  shouted  the  elevator  man. 

Armitage  followed  the  handsome  corridor  with 
its  marble  walls,  inlaid  floors  and  hard-wood  finish- 
ing until  he  came  to  a  glass  door  on  which  was  in- 
scribed in  bold  black  letters : 


COXE   AND    WILLOUGHBY 
Counsellors  at  law 


He  opened  the  door,  and  found  himself  in  an 
outer  office  in  which  behind  a  rail  were  two  foppish- 
looking  clerks  seated  at  desks.  Neither  of  them 
made  an  attempt  to  move  when  Armitage  entered, 
but  continued  their  animated  discussion  of  a  game 
of  baseball  they  had  witnessed  the  previous  day.  Ar- 
mitage hit  the  rail  lightly  with  his  hand  to  attract 
their  attention,  and  finally  one  of  the  clerks  conde- 

317 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

scended  to  get  up  and  come  and  ask  what  the  caller 
wanted. 

"I  wish  to  see  a  member  of  the  firm,"  said  Armi- 
tage. 

The  clerk  looked  him  over  from  head  to  toe.  He 
had  been  trained  to  judge  people  by  their  clothes, 
and  there  was  something  unconventional  about  Ar- 
mitage's  attire  that  appealed  to  his  sense  of  humor. 
He  turned  to  his  fellow  clerk  and  gave  him  the  wink, 
whereupon  the  other  laughed. 

"In  relation  to  what?"  he  demanded,  wondering 
what  possible  business  this  ordinary  workingman 
could  have  with  his  employer. 

Armitage  was  puzzled  for  a  moment  as  to  how  he 
should  announce  himself.  Then  an  idea  occurred 
to  him.  Taking  from  his  pocket  the  advertisement 
which  he  had  clipped  from  the  paper  the  night  be- 
fore, he  handed  it  to  the  clerk,  saying : 

"Say  that  a  gentleman  has  called  in  answer  to  this 
advertisement." 

"A  'gentleman,'  did  you  say?"  demanded  the  clerk 
insolently. 

He  looked  first  at  the  advertisement  and  then  at 
3* 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Armitage.  A  look  of  blank  astonishment  which 
came  over  his  face  was  succeeded  by  one  of  utter 
incredulity.  Leaving  the  rail,  he  went  over  to  his 
fellow  clerk  and  whispered  something  to  him,  and 
they  both  snickered. 

Armitage  tried  to  be  patient,  but  he  was  fast 
losing  his  temper.  He  did  not  like  the  clerk's  super- 
cilious manner.  In  another  minute  he  would  vault 
over  that  rail,  and  some  one's  head  would  get 
punched.  Finally  he  said  impatiently: 

"Are  you  going  to  take  that  in  to  a  member  of  the 
firm  or  must  I  do  it  myself?" 

The  clerk  looked  up,  and  he  was  about  to  make 
some  impertinent  retort  when  he  suddenly  thought 
better  of  it.  There  was  a  look  in  Armitage's  eye 
that  he  did  not  like.  Crossing  the  office,  he  disap- 
peared through  a  glass  door.  A  moment  later  he 
reappeared  and,  unfastening  the  rail  gate,  said  in 
more  respectful  tones : 

"Mr.  Willoughby  will  see  you  at  once,  sir." 

He  ushered  him  into  a  spacious,  well-lighted  and 
handsomely  furnished  room.  An  elderly  man  of 
legal  appearance  was  writing  at  a  table  littered  with 

3*9 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

documents.  He  rose  as  Armitage  entered,  and 
courteously  waved  him  to  a  chair.  In  his  hand  he 
held  the  advertisement,  and  while  he  twisted  it  nerv- 
ously in  his  fingers  he  scrutinized  his  caller  closely 
through  his  glasses. 

"You  wish  to  see  me,  Sir.  What  can  I  do  for 
you?"  he  began. 

"No,"  replied  Armitage  quickly.  "You  wished 
to  see  me.  I  came  in  answer  to  that  advertisement." 

The  lawyer  came  nearer,  and  his  scrutiny  became 
keener. 

"Oh,  yes — I  see.  May  I  ask  in  what  way  this  ad- 
vertisement interests  you?" 

"Only  that  I'm  John  Armitage— that's  all." 

Mr.  Willoughby  started,  and,  taking  out  his  hand- 
kerchief nervously,  wiped  his  face.  As  much  as  any 
lawyer  allows  himself  to  show  emotion,  he  betrayed 
surprise.  He  came  still  closer  and,  peering  into  his 
visitor's  face,  said: 

"You  ?    You  are  John  Armitage  ?" 

He  looked  at  his  visitor's  dress,  noticed  his  clumsy 
thick-soled  boots,  soiled  jacket  and  trousers,  and  he 
shook  his  head  incredulously. 

320 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"The  world's  full  of  impostors,"  he  muttered  to 
himself,  "but  we  lawyers  are  too  much  for  them." 
Aloud  he  repeated :  "You  are  John  Armitage  ?" 

"Yes — I  am  John  Armitage,  formerly  of  Alnwick 
Tower,  Bucks,  England." 

Hurrying  back  to  his  desk,  the  old  lawyer  opened 
a  drawer  and  took  from  it  a  faded  photograph. 
Holding  it  so  that  Armitage  could  not  see  it,  he 
stood  comparing  the  portrait  with  the  living  man 
before  him. 

"Same  face !"  he  murmured.  "Older — more  seri- 
ous expression,  but  same  shaped  head — same  fea- 
tures." Aloud  he  added :  "If,  as  you  say,  you  are 
John  Armitage,  you  have,  of  course,  some  way  of 
identifying  yourself.  You  see  we  have  to  be  very 
careful." 

Armitage  laughed. 

"I  don't  happen  to  have  a  passport,"  he  said. 
"When  I  left  England  some  fifteen  years  ago  I  didn't 
think  I'd  require  one.  But  I've  a  mark  on  my  left 
arm,  a  rough  tattooing  of  the  Armitage  crest, 
which  I  did  in  my  foolish  boyhood  days.  And  I 
have  some  letters  which  my  mother  wrote  me  after  I 

321 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

left  home.  Those  I've  treasured.  I  let  everything 
else  go,  but  her  letters  I  kept."  Placing  his  hand 
over  his  heart,  he  added :  "They're  here." 

As  Mr.  Willoughby  grew  more  and  more  inter- 
ested he  became  more  and  more  nervous. 

"Let  me  see  them,"  he  said  impatiently. 

Armitage  opened  his  vest  and  drawing  forth  a 
small  package  of  yellow-stained  letters  tied  with  a 
bit  of  ribbon,  he  handed  them  over. 

"I  guess  we  have  no  secrets  from  you,"  he  said. 
"You  may  read  them." 

Mr.  Willoughby  untied  the  package,  opened  a  let- 
ter and  glanced  hurriedly  at  the  handwriting  and 
signature.  Then  he  handed  them  back. 

"That's  enough,"  he  cried.  "That's  enough." 
Starting  forward,  he  extended  his  hand. 

"My  dear  Sir  John — allow  me  to  congratulate 
you!" 

Armitage  felt  himself  grow  pale.  He  rose  from 
his  chair. 

"You  mean  that  my  father "  he  exclaimed. 

The  lawyer  looked  grave. 

"Your  father,  Sir  William,  is  dead " 

322 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

"But  my  elder  brother,  Charles?"  stammered  Ar- 
mitage.  "He  succeeded  to  the  title  and  estates — 
not  I." 

"Your  brother  Charles,"  replied  the  lawyer  sol- 
emnly, "was  killed  in  an  automobile  accident  five 
years  ago." 

Armitage  sank  into  a  chair  and  burying  his  face 
in  his  hands  burst  into  tears.  That  his  father  had 
died  without  forgiving  him  was  bad  enough,  but 
that  Charlie,  his  old  pal,  should  have  died  years  ago 
without  his  knowing  it,  was  terrible ! 

"Poor  Charlie !    Poor  Charlie !"  he  murmured. 

"When  your  brother  was  dying,"  went  on  the  law- 
yer, "he  summoned  your  heart-broken  father  to  his 
bedside  and  made  him  promise  to  forgive  you,  to 
make  every  effort  to  discover  your  whereabouts,  and 
to  make  a  will  in  your  favor.  They  advertised  for 
you  in  the  London  and  colonial  papers.  We  adver- 
tised for  you  in  the  American  papers.  We  received 
no  answer.  And  now  your  father  has  passed  away. 
You  are  the  sole  heir.  As  the  estates  are  entailed, 
you  would  have  succeeded  to  the  estates  as  a  matter 
of  course,  but  your  father  died  forgiving  you  fully 

323 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

and  leaving  you  sufficient  income  to  keep  up  the 
title.  Sir  John,  I  again  congratulate  you  on  suc- 
ceeding to  an  old  and  honored  title  and  an  income  of 
little  less  than  $100,000  a  year." 

Armitage  listened  like  a  man  who  is  dazed.  It 
had  all  come  so  suddenly  that  he  thought  he  must 
be  dreaming. 

"When  did  my  father  die — of  what?"  he  asked 
in  a  low  tone. 

"Of  heart  failure — three  weeks  ago,"  was  the  re- 
joinder. "We've  been  trying  to  find  you  ever  since. 
They  followed  you  as  far  as  the  London  docks,  and 
then  all  trace  of  you  was  lost.  Where  have  you  been 
all  these  years?" 

The  lawyer  noted  his  new  client's  sun-tanned  face, 
and  he  looked  askance  at  his  workman's  dress. 

"Knocking  about  the  world — trying  to  forget 
things,"  replied  Armitage. 

Mr.  Willoughby  shook  his  head  as  he  said : 

"Young  men  will  do  foolish  things  \  Well,  you've 
had  your  lesson.  Perhaps  you'll  be  a  better  man  for 
the  hard  time  you've  had.  The  past  is  dead  and 

324 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

forgotten.  A  bright  future  is  before  you.  What  do 
you  propose  to  do  now?" 

Armitage  seemed  lost  in  thought. 

"I  don't  know.    I  haven't  had  time  to  think." 

"Have  you  any  ties  here  ?    Are  you  married  ?" 

Armitage  smiled. 

"No,  who  would  have  me — a  pauper?" 

Mr.  Willoughby  carefully  adjusted  his  spectacles 
and  said  decisively : 

"Well,  then,  you  had  better  start  for  England  at 
once  and  take  possession  of  your  property  under  the 
will  and  entail.  There  will  be  a  number  of  legal 
formalities  to  go  through.  I  will  advise  our  London 
office  that  you  are  coming.  This  is  Tuesday.  Could 
you  sail  on  the  Florida  next  Saturday  ?" 

"I  can,"  replied  Armitage  quickly. 

The  lawyer  went  to  his  desk  and  sat  down  to 
write.  A  moment  later  he  returned  with  a  piece  of 
paper  in  his  hand.  Holding  it  out,  he  said : 

"Of  course  you  can't  go  dressed  as  you  are. 
Here's  a  check  for  $1,000.  It  will  pay  your  passage 
and  your  immediate  needs.  WTien  you  arrive  in 
England,  you  can,  of  course,  draw  on  our  London 

325 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

office  for  all  you  want.  You  had  better  hurry  now 
to  book  your  passage  and  buy  some  clothes,  and  this 
evening  if  you  have  nothing  else  to  do  I  shall  be  de- 
lighted if  you'll  dine  with  me  at  the  Union  League 
Club." 

He  touched  a  bell,  and  the  supercilious  clerk  en- 
tered. By  the  sneer  on  his  face,  he  evidently  ex- 
pected that  he  had  been  summoned  to  eject  the 
rough-looking  visitor.  To  his  astonishment,  he  saw 
his  employer  shaking  hands  with  him. 

Mr.  Willoughby  accompanied  Armitage  into  the 
outer  office. 

"Good-by,  Sir  John,"  he  said  cordially.  "I'm  de- 
lighted to  have  made  your  acquaintance.  Don't  for- 
get to-night.  Union  League  Club,  at  7  o'clock." 

The  two  clerks  nearly  swooned  from  amazement 
and  consternation.  As  Armitage  went  down  in  the 
elevator  he  pinched  himself  to  find  out  if  he  was 
awake. 

When  he  emerged  into  Broad  Street  he  was  sur- 
prised to  find  how  different  everything  looked  to 
him.  The  world  had  suddenly  taken  on  another 
aspect.  The  sunshine  seemed  brighter.  Every  man 

326 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

and  woman  he  met  seemed  more  amiable  and  friend- 
ly. The  whole  world  seemed  gayer,  more  joyous. 
He  felt  within  him  a  strange  novel  sensation  of  ex- 
hilaration. His  moodiness,  his  pessimism  had  dis- 
appeared. He  felt  imbued  with  new  life  and  energy, 
as  if  he  could  go  forth  and  conquer  a  world.  From 
less  than  nothing  to  a  title  and  $100,000  a  year  is  a 
jump  big  enough  to  daze  any  man. 

Suddenly  he  thought  of  Grace.  If  only  he  had 
received  this  news  a  few  weeks  before!  Things 
might  have  been  very  different.  Well,  what  was  the 
use  of  torturing  himself  any  longer?  She  was  lost 
to  him  now — no  matter  how  changed  his  circum- 
stances and  position. 

He  stood  still,  at  the  edge  of  the  curb,  irresolute, 
not  knowing  what  to  do  next.  Putting  his  hand  in 
his  pocket  to  feel  if  the  check  was  still  there,  he  drew 
it  out  to  look  at  it.  It  was  drawn  on  the  Chemical 
Bank  and  payable  to  bearer.  A  thousand  dollars! 
He  had  never  seen  so  much  money  in  his  life.  It 
was  a  question  if  they  wouldn't  arrest  him  as  a  sus- 
picious character  when  he  presented  it  for  payment. 
However,  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  He  must  get 

327 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

the  check  cashed  at  once,  buy  an  outfit  and  secure 
his  steamship  passage. 

After  some  difficulty  he  found  the  Chemical  Bank, 
opposite  the  Post-Office.  It  was  a  splendid  building 
with  a  lofty  dome  of  stained  glass,  reminding  him  of 
a  church.  Making  his  way  to  the  paying-teller's 
window,  he  handed  in  the  check.  The  teller,  a  gaunt, 
keen-eyed  man  with  spectacles,  looked  first  at  the 
check  and  then  at  Armitage.  The  latter's  appearance 
did  not  seem  to  fit  the  amount  of  money  the  check 
called  for,  and  a  suspicious  look  came  over  his  face. 
Eyeing  the  bearer  severely,  he  demanded  sternly : 

"Where  did  you  get  this?" 

"From  the  man  who  drew  it,  of  course,"  replied 
Armitage  coolly.  "Let  me  have  it  in  fifties  and  hun- 
dreds!" 

Instead  of  complying  with  the  request,  the  teller 
quickly  touched  an  electric  bell.  It  was  evidently  a 
signal,  for  instantly  a  special  policeman  attached  to 
the  Bank  came  up  and  took  up  a  position  near  Ar- 
mitage. He  made  no  attempt  to  interfere,  but  just 
remained  on  hand  in  case  he  was  wanted.  Meantime 

328 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

the  teller  was  already  in  telephonic  communication 
with  Coxe  and  Willoughby. 

"Is  this  Coxe  and  Willoughby?"  asked  the  teller. 

"This  is  Mr.  Willoughby,"  came  the  answer. 

"Have  you  drawn  to-day  a  check  for  $1,000  pay- 
able to  bearer?" 

"I  have." 

"What  does  the  bearer  look  like?" 

"Tall,  dark  man,  smooth  face,  dressed  like  a  work- 
ingman.  "It's  all  right.  Pay  it  at  once.  Good  day." 

That  was  enough.  The  teller  returned  to  his  little 
window.  Dismissing  the  uniformed  attendant,  he 
turned  to  Armitage  and  in  a  tone  as  if  he  had  never 
for  a  moment  doubted  the  genuineness  of  the  check, 
asked  suavely: 

"Fifties  and  hundreds,  I  think  you  said,  Sir." 

Rapidly  counting  out  the  bills,  he  passed  them 
through  the  little  opening  and  turned  to  attend  to 
the  next  man  on  the  line. 

Armitage  slowly  folded  up  bills,  a  grim  smile  of 
satisfaction.  He  had  enjoyed  the  situation  hugely. 

"Now  for  my  steamship  passage !"  he  muttered  to 
himself. 

329 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Turning  to  the  right  as  he  re-entered  Broadway, 
he  walked  about  a  mile  in  the  direction  of  the  Bat- 
tery until  he  came  to  Bowling  Green,  where  the 
steamship  companies  have  their  offices.  Conspicu- 
ous on  the  left-hand  side  were  the  palatial  offices  of 
the  Blue  Star  Line.  As  he  went  up  the  imposing 
stone  steps  leading  to  the  passenger  booking-rooms, 
he  thought  bitterly  under  what  different  conditions 
he  had  last  visited  these  offices.  Then  it  was  to  sign 
articles  as  stoker  on  the  Atlanta. 

He  entered  the  room  devoted  exclusively  to  first 
cabin  business,  and  a  clerk,  quick  to  notice  his 
shabby  appearance,  spoke  up  impatiently : 

"Can't  you  read?  This  is  first  cabin.  Steerage 
and  second  cabin  on  the  other  side  of  the  hall." 

Armitage  gave  the  clerk  a  look  that  made  the  lat- 
ter wish  he  had  left  the  caller  alone. 

"Who  asked  you  for  any  information?"  he  de- 
manded, pretending  wrath  he  did  not  feel. 

"This  is  only  first  class,"  repeated  the  clerk  peev- 
ishly, but  not  without  feeling  some  respect  to  his 
interlocutor's  massive  shoulders. 

"I  don't  care  whether  it's  first  class  or  tenth 
330 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

class,"  growled  Armitage.  "Let  me  see  the  plan 
of  the  Florida." 

The  clerk  gasped  as  he  laid  the  plan  before  him. 

"The  lowest  in  this  ship  is  $150  a  berth — two  in 
a  room/'  he  said,  in  a  tone  as  if  he  expected  this 
would  quickly  settle  the  matter. 

"Two  in  a  room — not  for  mine,"  said  Armitage 
jovially.  "I  want  something  comfortable.  How's 
this?"  he  added,  pointing  to  a  berth. 

"Single  berth  room — $400,"  said  the  clerk  blandly. 

"I'll  take  it,"  replied  the  new  passenger.  Peeling 
off  four  zoo-dollar  bills  from  the  bank-roll,  he  threw 
them  before  the  astonished  clerk. 

"What  name,  sir?"  he  asked,  more  respectfully. 

"Sir  John  Armitage." 

The  clerk's  hand  shook  so  with  surprise  and  nerv- 
ousness that  he  dropped  the  book-plan  on  the  floor. 

Leaving  the  steamship  offices,  Armitage  proceeded 
along  Broadway,  chuckling.  How  sweet  was  the 
power  of  money!  Now  he  would  be  able  to  wield 
this  power,  to  enslave  men  as  they  had  enslaved  him. 
tYet  in  the  midst  of  this  new-found  joy,  he  knew 
there  was  something  still  lacking.  He  was  haunted 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

by  a  pair  of  dark  eyes,  lips  that  had  trembled 
with  passion  he  alone  had  awakened.  What  good 
was  his  money,  his  new-found  power,  if  it  would 
not  give  him  the  woman  he  wanted.  Engaged  to 
that  spendthrift  princeling,  she  was  entirely  lost  to 
him.  She  had  sold  herself,  and  he  tried  to  persuade 
himself  that  he  despised  her  for  it. 

Yet  how  could  he  go  away  without  saying  good- 
by  ?  It  was  different  when  everything  looked  hope- 
less, when  his  social  standing  was  immeasurably  be- 
neath hers.  He  would  never  have  subjected  himself 
to  a  snub,  and  he  had  avoided  her  for  that  reason. 
He  knew  it  would  pain  her  to  snub  him,  yet  she 
would  be  compelled  to  do  so.  It  would  only  have 
meant  more  suffering  for  him.  But  now  it  was  dif- 
ferent. He  was  more  than  her  equal  socially.  In 
fact,  he  was  her  social  superior.  He  could  not  go 
away  without  saying  good-by.  There  could  never  be 
anything  between  them.  She  was  going  to  marry 
the  other  fellow  and  satisfy  her  ambition  to  be  a 
member  of  a  royal  house.  Yet  for  all  that  they  were 
still  good  friends. 

He  wondered  how  he  could  see  her.  The  best 
332 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

way  probably  was  to  write  her  a  letter,  telling  her 
he  was  sailing  immediately  and  asking  for  an  inter- 
view. He  would  say  nothing  about  his  accession  to 
the  title,  but  just  that  his  condition  had  changed  for 
the  better.  This  revealed  nothing,  and  yet  would 
account  for  his  better  clothes  and  possession  of 
funds. 

A  firm  of  ready-made  clothiers  speedily  fitted  him 
with  a  neat  business  suit  and  furnished  all  the  other 
things  he  required.  When  the  transformation  was 
complete  with  a  clean  shave  and  hair  cut,  he  did  not 
recognize  himself  in  the  mirror. 

That  night  he  took  rooms  at  the  Waldorf,  and 
after  enjoying  a  good  dinner  with  Mr.  Willoughby 
at  the  Union  League  Club,  he  returned  to  the  hotel,  j 
sitting  down  in  the  reading-room,  he  wrote  Grace 
a  letter.  ' 


333 


CHAPTER  XXII 

NEW  YORK  CITY,  Tuesday. 

DEAR  Miss  HARMON  :  You  will  perhaps  consider  this  letter 
an  impertinence,  and  yet  you  may  not — under  the  circum- 
stances. When  the  other  day  I  called  at  your  house,  at  your 
father's  request,  Mr.  Harmon  asked  me  to  go  upstairs  to  see 
you.  It  was  impossible  for  me  at  that  time  to  accept  his  kind 
invitation.  You  will  understand  why.  Since  then,  however, 
a  change  for  the  better  has  taken  place  in  my  affairs.  The 
outlook  is  no  longer  so  hopeless.  I  am  leaving  America.  I 
sail  on  Saturday. 

I  cannot  go  without  saying  good-by.  I  have  read  in  the 
newspapers  about  your  coming  marriage  to  the  Prince  of 
Eurasia.  I  sincerely  hope  that  this  realization  of  your  life's 
ambition  will  bring  the  happiness  you  expect. 

No  matter  what  the  future  may  have  in  store  for  me,  the 
recollection  of  those  all  too  few  weeks  we  spent  alone  in  close 
association  on  Hope  Island  will  never  grow  dim  in  my  mem- 
ory. I  can  never  forget  you  or  the  dream  of  supreme  happi- 
ness that  I  once  thought  within  my  grasp.  The  signal  fire 
is  now  dead  and  cold  on  Mount  Hope's  lofty  summit,  but 
another  flame  as  bright  and  fierce,  which  you  yourself  kindled, 
will  continue  to  blaze  in  my  heart  while  life  endures.  I 
know  that  you  are  forever  lost  to  me,  I  know  that  another 
will  call  you  wife,  yet  night  and  day  I  am  haunted  by  the 
memory  of  that  mad  afternoon  on  the  sun-kissed  sands  when, 
almost  crazed  with  passion,  I  seized  you  in  my  arms  to  take 
you  for  my  own.  Then,  all  at  once,  came  the  rude  awaken- 
ing! 

But  all  that  is  past  and  gone.  I  steel  my  heart  to  try  and 
forget  what  I  had  won  and  lost  again.  I  will  leave  you  in 

334 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

peace  to  enjoy  your  new  happiness.  You  will  never  see  or 
hear  from  me  after  I  leave  New  York.  Yet  I  would  like  to 
see  you  just  once  more,  to  grasp  your  hand  and  wish  you  well. 
We  were  always  frknds,  and  for  one  brief  moment  we  were 
almost  lovers.  May  I  call  on  Thursday  afternoon? 

Yours  sincerely, 

JOHN  ARMITAGE. 

Ensconced  in  the  big  bay  window  of  the  library, 
comfortably  propped  up  with  cushions,  Grace  sat 
gazing  pensively  over  the  tree  tops  of  Central  Park. 
In  her  hand  was  Armitage's  letter,  which  she  had 
read  and  reread  a  dozen  times  until  she  knew  every 
word  by  heart.  Close  by,  impatiently  tossed  against 
a  chair,  was  a  magnificent  floral  basket  which  Prince 
Sergius  had  sent  that  morning.  Attached  to  the 
basket  by  a  white  ribbon  was  an  envelope — un- 
opened. The  perfume  from  the  flowers  scented  the 
entire  room,  but  Grace  seemed  to  be  unconscious  of 
their  presence.  She  kept  looking  out  of  the  window 
as  if  expecting  each  instant  to  see  some  one  appear 
on  the  Avenue.  Every  now  and  then  she  consulted 
her  watch. 

"Ten  minutes  past  three!"  she  murmured.  "I 
wrote  that  I  should  expect  him  at  three.  Perhaps 
he  never  got  my  letter." 

335 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

A  look  of  worry  came  over  her  face,  and  she  was 
straining  her  eyes  in  an  effort  to  distinguish  far- 
away figures  on  the  avenues  when  the  door  opened 
and  her  French  maid  entered.  Grace  looked  up. 

"What  is  it,  Louise?"  she  asked. 

"Ze  telephone,  Mademoiselle.  His  Royal  High- 
ness want  to  know  if  you  are  at  home." 

"Did  you  say  I  was  home?" 

"Mais  -non,  Mademoiselle.  I  said  I  would  see  if 
Mademoiselle  was  in." 

Grace  left  her  place  by  the  window  and  paced 
nervously  up  and  down  the  room. 

"Tell  His  Royal  Highness  that  I'm  out,"  she  said. 
With  a  gesture  of  impatience  she  added :  "Say  I've 
gone  out  to  dinner  and  won't  be  back  until  late. 
Vous  comprenez?" 

The  girl  curtsied. 

"Mais  oui,  Mademoiselle." 

She  was  leaving  the  room  when  Grace  called  her 
back. 

"Take  these  flowers  away,  too.  Their  strong  per- 
fume makes  me  nervous." 

"Tres  bien,  Mademoiselle." 
336   . 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Elevating  her  eyebrows  as  if  to  convey  that  she 
quite  understood  the  situation,  the  maid  took  up  the 
floral-basket  and  disappeared. 

Grace  resumed  her  vigil  at  the  window,  watching 
eagerly  every  one  who  came  in  sight  along  the 
avenue,  wondering  if  each  newcomer  was  the  one 
man  who  was  in  her  thoughts. 

She  was  annoyed  with  herself  for  having  betrayed 
herself  before  the  servant.  Yet  surely  they  could  all 
see  that  she  detested  the  Prince,  and  that  she  was 
only  marrying  him  for  his  lofty  position.  It  had 
been  the  ambition  of  her  life,  her  father  approved  it, 
her  friends  envied  her,  the  papers  were  full  of  the 
splendors  of  the  wonderful  Eurasian  palace  of  which 
she  would  one  day  be  mistress.  How  could  she  re- 
sist? Yet  how  they  must  all  despise  her  for  selling 
herself ! 

Once  more  she  took  up  Armitage's  letter  and  read 
it  through.  She  wondered  why  he  was  leaving 
America  and  what  the  change  for  the  better  of  which 
he  spoke  could  be.  No  doubt  he  had  been  successful 
in  securing  more  congenial  employment.  She  was 

337 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

sincerely  glad  to  hear  it.  She  would  remember  him 
always. 

She  wondered  why  life  was  so  contrary,  so  cruel. 
The  one  man  she  could  have  loved  truly,  sincerely, 
was  too  poor  for  her  to  marry,  too  far  beneath  her 
in  the  social  scale.  Suppose  she  braved  everything 
for  his  sake,  what  then  ?  It  would  break  her  father's 
heart.  All  her  friends  would  laugh  at  her.  The 
world  would  ostracise  her.  No — it  was  an  impossi- 
ble dream.  She  owed  something  to  her  position. 
Her  own  happiness  must  be  sacrificed  to  please  oth- 
ers. Angry,  defiant  yet  powerless  to  resist  the  laws 
of  the  society  she  moved  in,  she  rebelled  at  the  in- 
justice and  cruelty  of  it. 

Suddenly  the  bell  at  the  front  door  rang.  She 
heard  voices,  followed  by  steps  on  the  stairs.  A 
footman  appeared  on  the  library  threshold. 

"Mr.  Armitage  has  called  to  see  Miss  Harmon." 

Grace  advanced,  nervous. 

"Ask  Mr.  Armitage  to  come  up." 

The  servant  withdrew,  and  Grace  crossed  hastily 
to  the  mirror  to  see  if  everything  about  herself  was 
as  she  wanted  him  to  see  it.  A  moment  later  she 

338 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

heard  some  one  enter  the  room  behind  her.  It  was 
Armitage.  She  turned  and  greeted  him  with  a 
smile,  extending  her  hand,  which  for  a  moment  he 
held  firmly  in  his. 

She  hardly  knew  him,  so  altered  was  he  in  appear- 
ance. He  wore  a  neat  business  suit,  with  derby  hat 
and  gloves.  His  hair  trimmed  and  carefully  brushed, 
was  more  wavy  and  glossy  than  usual,  and  a  close 
shave  threw  into  still  greater  relief  the  academic  out- 
line of  his  features.  The  change  was  so  remarkable 
that  at  first  she  hardly  recognized  him.  But  when 
she  heard  the  familiar  rich  tones  of  his  deep,  manly 
voice,  no  further  doubt  was  possible. 

"I've  come  to  say  good-by,"  he  said,  with  a  smile. 

"What  a  change!"  she  exclaimed,  with  an  effort 
to  appear  light-hearted  and  at  ease. 

He  made  no  answer  for  a  moment,  embarrassed 
as  to  what  to  say.  Then  he  replied : 

"Yes— I  do  look  a  little  different,  don't  I?  It's 
wonderful  what  clothes  will  do.  No  wonder  they 
are  the  world's  only  standard !" 

"Come  and  sit  here  and  tell  me  about  it." 

She  led  the  way  to  the  low  recess  at  the  bay-win- 
339 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

dow,  and,  sinking  down  on  the  cushions,  she  mo^ 
tioned  him  to  take  a  seat  opposite. 

"Tell  me,"  she  repeated,  "what  good  fairy  has 
worked  this  transformation  ?" 

He  smiled  as  he  replied : 

"Things  have  changed  a  little  for  the  better." 

"You  mean  that  you  have  found  more  lucrative 
and  congenial  employment?" 

He  hesitated,  not  willing  to  lie  to  her.  Yet,  after 
all,  it  was  the  truth.  His  new  position  was  decidedly 
more  lucrative. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  after  a  pause.  "More  lucrative 
— more  congenial." 

Grace  was  puzzled.  His  answers  were  vague.  He 
was  hiding  something  from  her.  Perhaps  he  thought 
her  questions  impertinent.  After  all,  what  right  had 
she  to  question  him  ? 

"I'm  pleased — for  your  sake,"  she  answered, 
rather  haughtily. 

Armitage  was  quick  to  notice  the  difference  in  her 
tone,  and  intuitively  he  divined  the  reason. 

"For  my  sake?"  he  echoed.  "Why  should  you 
care?" 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"I  shall  always  be  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  pros- 
pering and — happy,"  she  answered. 

He  looked  into  her  eyes  without  speaking.  There 
was  a  melancholy,  wistful  expression  in  his  face.  He 
seemed  to  want  to  say  something  and  did  not  dare. 
Embarrassed  by  the  continuity  of  his  fixed  gaze,  she 
averted  her  head  and  looked  out  of  the  window  over 
into  the  park,  where  the  nurses  and  children  were 
playing  on  the  green  lawns.  There  was  a  silence 
that  was  almost  painful.  At  last  he  broke  it. 

"You  will  be  happy,"  he  said.  "One  day  you  will 
be  a  Princess!" 

Grace  sighed.    With  a  forced  laugh  she  said : 

"Happiness !  What  is  happiness  ?  We  are  always 
pursuing  it,  we  think  we've  found  it,  only  to  find  it 
empty  and  unreal,  after  all." 

"You're  happy,  aren't  you  ?"  he  persisted. 

For  a  moment  she  made  no  answer.  Then  she 
said : 

"Yes — I  suppose  I  am." 

"When  do  you  expect  to  get  married?"  he  asked. 

"I  don't  know — nothing  is  settled — perhaps 
never " 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

She  laughed  nervously.  There  was  something  in 
the  tone  of  her  voice  that  sounded  like  a  stifled  sob. 

Armitage  watched  her  closely.  This  was  not  the 
way  a  happy  woman  acts  or  talks.  Could  it  be  that 
she  did  not  care  for  the  Prince,  that  she  was  forcing 
herself  in  this  ambitious  marriage  in  spite  of  her  own 
better,  truer  self  ?  Certainly  the  man  was  unworthy 
of  her.  The  escapades  and  scandals  in  which  he  had 
ben  mixed  up  were  the  talk  of  Europe.  She  must 
be  aware  of  his  real  character,  or  was  she  completely 
blinded  by  the  brilliancy  of  his  position?  His  heart 
throbbed  furiously  as  he  thought  that  he  had  per- 
haps guessed  the  truth. 

He  wondered  if  it  would  make  any  difference  if 
he  told  her  everything,  of  the  miraculous  change  in 
his  fortune,  that  he  was  no  longer  a  penniless  out- 
cast of  society,  but  the  bearer  of  one  of  the  proudest 
titles  in  England.  That's  why  he  hesitated.  It 
might  make  a  difference,  and  that  he  didn't  want.  If 
after  being  told  of  the  change  in  his  position  she  con- 
sented to  marry  him,  he  would  always  suspect  that  it 
was  for  his  title.  No,  if  he  was  to  win  her  he  was 
determined  that  she  should  love  him  for  himself. 

342 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

The  thought  that  there  was  still  a  possibility  of 
making  her  his  wife  had  never  presented  itself  until 
now.  On  the  desert  island,  remote  from  the  con- 
ventions of  civilized  life,  bound  only  by  nature's 
laws,  he  had  claimed  her  as  his  chattel,  his  primor- 
dial right.  He  was  the  lord  and  master  whose  will 
she  must  obey  without  question.  But  now,  restored 
to  the  protection  of  civilization,  she  was  free  to  ex- 
ercise her  own  will,  and  it  had  never  occurred  to  him 
that,  of  all  the  men  who  had  courted  her,  she  might 
have  chosen  him  from  preference.  Such  a  possibil- 
ity was  beyond  his  most  fantastic  dreams.  Yet,  after 
all,  why  not  ? 

Breaking  the  long  and  awkward  silence,  he  said : 

"Have  you  quite  recovered  from  your  experience 
on  Hope  Island?" 

"Yes — I'm  all  right  now,"  she  replied  quickly. 

"You're  more  comfortable,  at  any  rate,"  he  smiled, 
glancing  around  at  the  oriental  rugs,  books  and  cost- 
ly objets  d'art  with  which  the  luxuriously  furnished 
room  was  littered.  "I  suppose  you're  glad  to  be 
home." 

343 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

She  shook  her  head,  and  a  wistful  smile  came  into 
her  face  as  she  answered: 

"Sometimes  I  wish  I  were  back  there.  Now  that 
I've  returned,  it's  the  same  social  treadmill  again — 
the  same  exhausting  round  of  teas,  receptions,  din- 
ners, and  all  the  rest,  hearing  women  talk  nothing 
but  dress  and  scandal  and  bridge  until  you  begin  to 
think  there  is  nothing  else  in  the  world  worth  dis- 
cussing. It's  nauseating.  When  I  think  of  those 
ideal  days  on  the  little  island — the  life  of  perfect 
peace  under  the  cool  trees  by  the  silver  sea — doing 
cheerfully  each  day's  allotted  task,  helping  you  as 
best  I  could — when  I  think  of  how  happy  I  was 
leading  that  lonely  peaceful  existence,  I'm  almost 
sorry  we  were  rescued." 

A  glad  smile  broke  over  his  face.  His  eyes  flashed 
and  his  mouth  trembled  slightly  as  he  eagerly  bent 
forward. 

"Really  ?"  he  said.    "You  were  happier  then  ?" 

She  flushed  and  then  turned  pale.  He  hardly 
heard  the  low  answer  that  came  from  her  lips : 

"I  don't  know." 

His  steady  gaze  embarrassed  her.  She  was  afraid 
344 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

that  he  might  read  the  secret  which  lay  deep  in  her 
heart.  Rising  abruptly  from  her  seat  by  the  win- 
dow, she  crossed  the  room,  stopping  near  a  side 
table  to  arrange  some  American  beauty  roses  in  a 
vase.  Armitage  rose  and  followed  her. 

"Tell  me,"  he  persisted  eagerly.  "Were  you  hap- 
pier then  than  you  are  now?" 

"Suppose  we  change  the  subject,"  she  said  hastily, 
without  turning  round.  "Let  us  talk  about  you  and 
your  plans.  So  you're  going  to  England  ?" 

He  nodded  gravely. 

"I  sail  on  Saturday.    I  came  to  say  good-by." 

Grace  nervously  plucked  one  of  the  roses  and 
crushed  its  soft,  perfumed  petals  against  her  face. 
Her  head  still  averted,  she  said :  "But  you'll  come 
back?" 

"No — never,"  he  replied  firmly. 

She  made  no  reply,  and,  as  he  could  not  see  her 
face,  he  did  not  know  that  tears  were  in  her  eyes 
and  that  her  lips  were  trembling.  She  could  not 
speak  without  betraying  her  feelings.  An  awkward 
silence  followed. 

Armitage  stood  watching  her.  This  girl  loved 
345 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

him — he  was  convinced  of  that  now.  Only  her  pride 
was  keeping  them  apart.  A  struggle  for  the  mastery 
was  going  on  within  her,  between  her  artificial  self 
and  her  true  self.  One  word  from  him  and  she 
would  know  that  she  had  no  reason  to  be  ashamed 
of  the  man  to  whom  she  had  given  her  love;  that, 
on  the  contrary,  she  might  be  proud  to  be  his  wife. 
But  that  one  word  he  was  determined  not  to  speak. 
He  owed  that  much  to  his  manhood,  to  his  self- 
respect.  This  would  be  the  crucial  test.  If  she  loved 
him,  it  must  be  for  himself  alone,  not  for  his  title. 
If  he  won  her,  he  would  proudly  carry  off  the  prize 
of  two  New  York  seasons — he,  penniless,  unknown, 
to  all  appearances  an  ordinary  workman ! 

He  moved  forward  so  he  could  see  her  face. 

"We've  been  good  friends,"  he  went  on.  "I  can 
never  forget  you.  You  made  a  new  man  of  me. 
You  came  into  my  life  at  a  time  when  everything 
seemed  at  an  end.  Your  sweet,  gentle  influence 
filled  me  with  renewed  hope,  renewed  energy,  a  de- 
termination to  begin  life  anew.  Suddenly,  I  discov- 
ered that  you  were  indispensable  to  my  happiness. 
In  my  folly  I  dreamed  that  you  might  become  my 

346 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 


wife.  Perhaps  if  things  had  turned  out  otherwise, 

if  the  Saucy  Polly  had  not  come Well,  what's 

the  use  of  talking  of  that  now?  I  was  insane.  I 
lifted  my  eyes  to  the  stars.  I  deserved  to  be  pun- 
ished for  my  temerity." 

Grace  did  not  stir.  Fascinated,  she  stood  listening 
to  his  words.  There  was  sadness  in  his  voice,  and 
the  music  of  its  rich  tones  still  exercised  on  her  its 
old-time  magnetism.  What  potent  attraction  was 
there  about  this  man  that  rendered  her  powerless  to 
resist  his  pleading?  Was  she  afraid  to  confess  to 
herself  that  she  loved  him  and  that  she  was  ready 
to  do  anything,  break  off  with  the  Prince,  incur  the 
ridicule  of  her  friends,  offend  her  father — for  his 
sake? 

Armitage  continued : 

"But  that  is  all  over  now.  We  part  good  friends. 
You  go  your  way — I  will  go  mine.  You  will  find 
happiness  with  the  Prince — — " 

Grace  turned  quickly.  Her  eyes  red  and  flashing, 
her  bosom  heaving  with  pent-up  emotion,  she  cried : 

"The  Prince !  The  Prince !  I  detest  the  Prince ! 
347 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

I  wouldn't  marry  him  if  there  wasn't  another  man 
left  in  the  world." 

Armitage  drew  back,  surprised. 

"Aren't  you  engaged  to  him?"  he  demanded. 

"No — no !  That  is  only  newspaper  talk.  He  has 
been  annoying  me  with  his  attentions,  and  of  course 
all  my  people  were  flattered.  But  there's  nothing 
more  serious." 

"Thank  God !"  he  muttered  under  his  breath. 

"What  did  you  say  ?"  she  asked. 

"I'm  glad — for  your  sake,"  was  his  evasive  an- 
swer. 

He  approached  closer  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"Good-by,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone. 

Again  she  averted  her  head,  and  as  she  did  so  she 
stumbled  against  the  table.  Afraid  she  was  going  to 
fall,  he  caught  her  by  the  hand.  Their  hands  re- 
mained clasped.  She  made  no  attempt  to  withdraw. 
He  grew  bolder  and  went  still  nearer.  A  strange 
sensation  of  sudden  weakness  came  over  her.  She 
felt  as  if  her  will-power  was  about  to  succumb  before 
a  superior  mental  force.  She  loved  this  man.  He 
was  the  first  and  only  man  she  had  ever  cared  for, 

348 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

and  she  was  losing  him.  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
What  had  she  done  that  the  happiness  which  other 
women  know  should  not  be  granted  also  to  her  ? 

"Good-by!"  he  said  again. 

She  made  no  answer.  Bending  forward  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  her  face,  he  saw  traces  of  tears. 

"What?"  he  exclaimed.    "You  are  crying!" 

"Am  I?"  she  said  quickly,  making  a  desperate 
effort  to  hide  her  face.  "How  foolish !" 

"Why  are  you  crying?"  he  demanded. 

"I'm  nervous,  I  think.  I  have  not  yet  quite  re- 
covered from  the  wreck." 

He  looked  at  her,  trying  to  read  her  innermost 
thoughts.  She  met  his  gaze  unflinchingly. 

"Is  that  the  reason,  or  is  there  another?"  Draw- 
ing her  gently  to  him,  he  said : 

"You  are  unhappy — I  know  you  are You 

are  allowing  your  pride  to  stand  in  the  way  of  your 
happiness.  I  have  no  right  to  blame  you.  You 
are  free  to  do  as  you  think  is  right.  Only  I  am 
sorry  for  you — sorrier  for  you  than  I  am  for  my- 
self. Good-by.  May  God  bless  and  protect  you, 

349 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

Just  one  kind  word,  one  smile  before  I  go.    We  may 
never  see  each  other  again." 

His  voice  trembled  and  grew  husky.  Manlike,  he 
was  ashamed  of  showing  emotion;  he  was  anxious 
to  get  away  before  he  lost  control  of  himself.  He 
left  her  standing  there,  took  his  hat  and  gloves  and 
went  toward  the  door.  She  stood  motionless  watch- 
ing him  going,  powerless  to  utter  the  word  that 
would  stay  him.  The  color  left  her  face.  She  grew 
ashen  pale.  Her  entire  being  trembled  with  sup- 
pressed emotion. 

At  the  door  he  turned  round  for  the  last  time. 

"Good-by — God  bless  you !"  he  said. 

"Wait — just  a  moment — just  a  moment!"  she 
cried  desperately. 

The  spell  seemed  broken.  She  made  a  movement 
forward,  her  hand  outstretched.  There  was  a  wild 
look  of  mute  appeal  in  her  eyes. 

"You  are  going  alone,"  she  demanded,  her 
breath  coming  and  going  in  quick  spasmodic  gasps. 

"Yes — alone." 

"No — no — you're  not!"  she  cried,  advancing  to- 
ward him. 

3SO 


'NO— YOU'RE  NOT!  I'M  GOING  WITH  YOU." 


Page  351. 


BY  RIG  PIT  OF  CONQUEST 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  demanded, 

"Because  I'm  going  with  you !" 

The  next  instant  she  was  in  his  arms,  her  face 
buried  in  his  shoulder. 

"Going  with  me?"  he  exclaimed  hoarsely.  He 
thought  he  must  be  dreaming.  Does  such  happiness 
as  this  come  to  a  man  so  suddenly  ? 

"Yes,"  she  whispered ;  "as  your  wife — to  the  end 
of  the  world  if  necessary." 

"But  have  you  considered  everything — your  father 
— your  friends — the  uncertain  future?" 

"I've  weighed  everything.  I  knew  that  I  loved 
you  all  along.  I  struggled  with  my  pride,  and  I've 
mastered  it.  My  father  will  forgive  me  when  he 
knows  that  I  am  happy.  As  to  what  society  thinks, 
I  don't  care." 

"But  are  you  willing  to  marry  a  poor  man — are 
you  willing  to  sacrifice  all  the  luxuries  you  now  en- 
joy for  what  may  be  a  precarious  existence  with 
me?" 

She  looked  up  at  him,  her  face  radiant. 

"I'd  give  up  everything  for  you.  Wealth  does  not 
bring  happiness.  I've  found  that  out.  I  did  not 


BY  RIGHT  OP  CONQUEST 

know  what  happiness  was  until  I  spent  those  bliss- 
ful days  with  you  on  Hope  Island.  I'll  welcome  pov- 
erty if  I  am  to  share  it  with  you.  We  can  live  in  a 
cottage,  on  nothing  a  year,  and  I'll  still  be  the  hap- 
piest woman  on  earth." 

He  clasped  her  in  his  strong  arms  and  fiercely 
kissed  her  unresisting  lips.  Here  was  a  woman 
that  any  man  might  rejoice  to  call  wife,  and  he  had 
won  her  by  love  alone. 

"It  isn't  as  bad  as  all  that,  dearest,"  he  said,  with 
a  smile. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  demanded,  puzzled. 

"There  is  no  immediate  danger  of  your  having  to 
live  any  differently." 

Grace  opened  her  eyes  in  amazement. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  she  repeated.  "My  father 
may  be  so  incensed  that  he  won't  give  me  anything." 

Armitage  smiled. 

'"We  wouldn't  take  it  if  he  did.     We  wouldn't 
need  to.    I  have  plenty  of  my  own." 

Grace  was  more  and  more  mystified. 

"Are  you  jesting?"  she  exclaimed. 
352 


BY  RIGHT  OF  CONQUEST 

"Not  in  the  least.  Didn't  I  tell  you  there  had  been 
a  change  for  the  better  in  my  fortunes*?" 

"Yes,  but " 

Taking  fondly  once  more  in  his  arms  the  girl  he 
had  won,  he  whispered: 

"That's  why  I — that's  why  we — are  going  to 
England,  dearest.  My  father,  Sir  William  Armi- 
tage,  died  three  weeks  ago.  I  am  heir  to  the  title 
and  estates." 

"I  always  thought  you  were  more  than  you 
seemed,"  she  murmured.  Looking  up  at  him  mis- 
chievously, she  added :  "So  you  deceived  me — I 
marry  a  title,  after  all  ?" 

He  looked  down  proudly  at  her  as  he  replied  with 
his  frank  smile : 

"But  I  wooed  you  as  a  poor  man.  You  are  mine 
— by  right  of  conquest!" 


THE    END. 


353 


WHAT  THE  CRITICS  SAY  OF 

THE  END  OF  THE  GAME 

B?  ARTHUR  HORNBLOW 


I  THE  LITTKUttl        '"The  End  of  the  Game  •  belongs  to  the  school 
DIGEST        I    °f  good  old-fashioned   fiction  which  delighted  the 
mm~—m,m-m*mm~*     scant    leisure   hours  of  our  grandmothers.     It  is  a 
good  healthy  tale  of  normal   human  happenings,  a 
sort  Of  protest  against  the  decadent  type  of  novel  which  seems  to  be 
widening  its  empire  among  us.     The  characters  are  good  human  crea- 
tures  and  not  the  flat  paper  dolls  found  in  the  pages  of  so  much  current 
fiction." 


1"™"  TT""  ""T™^7™1        "A  creditable  plae«  of  work.    The  reeerobranae 
TIMES'        I    °f  tna  story  to  tne  careers  of  certain  men  who  hat* 
_«____!     been   much  in  the   public  eye  is  not  to  be  denied. 
One  pronounced  good  quality  of  the  novel  is  that  the 
author  has  not  hesitated  to  bring  the  story  to  a  tragic  and  logical  conclu- 
sion.    His  descriptions  of  the  terrors  of  modern  journalism  are  not 
nearly  so  exaggerated  as  the  reader  will  probably  imagine.     The  story 
of  the  patient  wife  has  a  pathos  and  a  realism  that  strike  the  keynote  of 
sincerity." 

I  '-^™T™n        "  **r<  Homblow   has   novelized  the  brain-stormy 

WORLD  Pittsburg  millionaire  and  a  few  other  matters  that 

_unc__BM_J    make  racy  reading." 


|""™T™  *"T""7"H|  "  The  70,000  readers  who  enjoyed  Mr.  Hornblow'* 

GLOBE       I  stoI7  '  The  Lion  and  the  Mouse  '  will  have  a  similar 

____.L__1  treat  in  '  The  End  of  the  Game.'  " 

I"     ri      i  '  A"  1  "The  author's  pictures  of  New  York  and  Pitta- 

NEWS  bur§  »re  worthy  of  a  place  beside  the  poetic  prose 

1  of  Whitman." 

1™"""^^!^""""!  "  If  Mr.  Hornblow's  first  book,  *  The  Lion  and 

EVENING  SUN  I  the  Mouse,'  was  capitalized  Oil  on  troubled  waters, 

•HWBiB^^^J  '  The  Bnd  of  the  Game  '  is  equally  a  study  in  steel." 


1"An    intensely    interesting    and    capitally    toI4 
NEWS          I    Story.     Mr.  Hornblow   has  something  to  My  and 
—  «_^_«J    knows  how  to  say  it." 

|p"\I^Ty^l         "  The  same  verve  and  rapidity  of  action  that  char- 
MONTHLY    ||    acterized   Mr.  Hornblow's  successful  novel  writtem 
m—mm-m—m*mj     f  rom  '  The  Lion  and  the  Mouse  '  are  in  this  nerr  and 
op-to-date  story." 


f2mo.    JOmstrxted  and  handsomely  bound  in  red  doth,  $t.50 
G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  CO.,  Publishers,  NEV  YORK 


"THE   PROFLIGATE 

By  Arthur  Hornblow 


I"  In  plot,  incidents,  emotions,  verisimilitude  and 
SUN  I    style  this  interesting  story  ranks  with  the  best  of  thfe 

w_«__J    year's  novels.     The  moral  tone  of  the  story  is  excel- 
lent— a  welcome  novelty  in  up-to-date  novels." 


*  The  Profligate '  is  a  good  story.     The  principal 

INTER-OCEAN  I     personage  of  the  book  is  a  young  man  wholly  given 
___»_^_J    to  gambling  and  dissipation.     Yet  the  author  suc- 
cessfully intimates  instinctive  reserves  of  decency  in 
his  hero  and  thus  prepares  us  to  accept  his  final  turning  away  from 
former  pursuits  under  the  inspiration  of  a  good  woman's  affection.     The 
author  must^be  given  credit  for  a  certain  originality  of  treatment ;  the 
denouement  is  sufficiently  dramatic  and  the  interest  admirably  sustained 
to  the  end." 


"  There  are  no  waits  between  the  acts  in  *  The 


(New  York  Inere  are  no  waits  between  the  acts  in  * 

WORLD  Profligate.'    The  book  will  make  a  lot  of  money." 

"""I        "'The  Profligate'  is  a  modern  rake's   progress 
XANI     centering  in  a  mysterious  tragedy  that   drives  the 
l»_»n___J    hero  into  exile  and  culminating  in  a  series  of  sensa- 
tional surprises.     The  novelist's  gifts  of  invention, 
his  skill  in  inspiring  and  conserving  interest  in  his  important  characters 
and  a  considerable  talent  for  dramatic  description  should  contribute  in  no 
Slight  degree  to  strengthen  the  grip  of  the  story  upon  popular  attention." 


I7TH|        *'  A  thrilling  story  of  love,  mystery  and  adventure, 
NEWS*  COURIER  I     ' Tne  Profligate ' claims  the  attention  at  the  outset 
.B__MM__MJ    and  holds  it  to  the  end.     The  story  is  dramatically 
and  forcefully  told  and  altogether  is  a  very  interest- 
ing book.      The  characters  are  not  overdrawn,  the  situations  not  im- 
possible, and  the  book  will  doubtless  have  a  large  and  ready  sale." 


MF.  Hornblow's  splendid  achievements  with  "The  Lion 
and  the  Mouse,"  and  "The  End  of  the  Game,"  must  be 
fresh  in  the  memory  of  all  who  follow  current  literature. 


J2mof  doih  Bound.    Ittastrations  by  Charles  Grttntvald.    $1.50 

G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  CO.,  Publishers,  NEW  YORK 


WHAT  THE  REVIEWERS  SAID 

About  the  Novel 

THE  LION  AND  THE  MOUSE 

Novelized  from  Charles  Klein's  great  play 
By  ARTHUR  HORNBLOW 


Bew  York 


"  Mr.  Hornblow  has  done  his  work  with  creditable 
aptitude.  He  is  successful  where  success  is  most 
important — in  keeping  up  the  reader's  suspense,  in 
working  effectively  toward  the  climax.  The  book 

witt  interest  those  who  hare  seen   the  play,   and  will  doubtless  send 

others  to  the  theatre." 


New  York 
AMERICAN 


Kew  York  *'  ^r>  Hornblow  has  made  his  novelization  of  an 

enormously  successful  play  in  a  workmanlike  man- 
ner. The  story,  like  the  play,  belongs  to  this  very 
minute.  It  is  full  of  a  spirit  and  a  feeling  that  are 
in  the  air.  It  deals  with  subjects  which  much  iteration  has  strongly 
impressed  on  the  people,  and  its  point  of  view  is  the  most  obvious.  The 
novel  is  likely  to  have  an  enormous  sale." 

"  Undoubtedly  the  book  of  the  hour.  Both  the 
novel  and  the  play  appeal  to  the  widest  possible 
American  public.  The  novelist  gives  more  of  the 
interesting  story  and  has  enhanced  the  virility  and 

the  element  of  suspense  materially.      The  reader's  interest  will  never 

lag  a  moment  from  cover  to  cover." 

" '  The  Lion  and  the  Mouse,'  as  a  novel,  »ore 
than  maintains  the  reputation  of  its  author  as  a  clean- 
cut  exposition  of  throbbing  American  life  by  a  real 
novelist.  Mr.  Hornblow  knows  his  subject  and  has 
succeeded  in  welding  his  own  characteristic  and  illuminating  expression 
to  the  idea  of  another  man  in  such  a  manner  that  the  novel  must  take 
its  place  beside  the  play  as  a  welcome  addition  to  American  art." 

"Will  become  the  most  talked-of  book  of  the 
year.  ...  As  exciting  and  fascinating  a  narrative 
as  has  appeared  in  novel  form  in  years." 


Cleveland 
NEWS 


*'  Mr.  Hornblow's  book  is  written  in  distinguished 
English ;  its  chapters  are  chiselled  to  exact  propor- 
tions ;  its  story  is  clear  and  limpid  ;  particularly  are 
its  characters  cleverly  vivid,  and  with  few  exceptions 
tell  themselves  in  the  dialogue  more  plainly  than  they  could  with  ever 
so  much  extrinsic  aid  of  psychic  and  physical  description.  The  Ameri- 
can nation  is  indebted  to  him.  He  has  clothed  with  the  vibrant  palpi. 
tating  flesh  of  life-interest  the  greatest  economic  problem  and  evil  of  tbe 
dr.  It  is  a  book  to  make  the  multitude  think*" 


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